


Descended From Delilah

by searchingwardrobes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Duckling, Emma must bring them down, Enchanted Forest AU, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Killian has walls, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10797231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: After being cruelly betrayed by the only woman he has ever loved, Killian Jones vows never again to trust a woman with his heart. Even if she is a princess. Even if she saved his sorry arse from the bloody dungeon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> * The title is a reference to Delilah, the woman in the Bible who betrayed Samson. She lulled him to sleep so his enemies could cut off his hair, the source of his super-human strength.  
> * One piece of Killian's dialogue is a slightly altered quote from Wesley in The Princess Bride.  
> * In this AU, Milah's son is not Rumple's.

              Killian Jones had fallen asleep in the safest place he could. Or so he thought. Milah’s fingers carding through his hair, his head in her lap, and a soft sea shanty falling from her lips. His contentment had been complete. Completely misplaced, that is.

              To awaken from that sweet, blissful oblivion into harsh reality filled with rough hands and cold steel was disconcerting, to say the least. His eyes were still a bit blurry from slumber as he was hauled from Milah’s lap and tossed across the cabin. His first thought was her and her safety, which spurred him all the more to fight his captor’s grasp. He pulled away from the meaty hands to find himself encircled by members of the Misthaven Royal Navy. And Milah . . . he expected her to cry his name, expected her to be fighting right along with him. But she wasn’t. She stood a few steps away, her face awash in shame, and only then did it dawn on him that she was part of this noose that surrounded him.

              “Milah?” he asked, voice broken, still wanting in the deepest parts of his mind to believe that there must be some mistake.

              “I’m sorry, Killian,” she choked, a tear slipping down her cheek. Then she squared her shoulders and dashed at the wet spot. “Move him over there,” she ordered, “hold him down.”

              “What? Milah, what are you doing?” Killian’s eyes never left Milah’s face as he struggled in vain against two of his captors. They wrestled him over to the desk, and a third man shoved him forward. Killian grunted as he was held down by both shoulders, his left arm extended and pinned down. His eyes widened as Milah pulled a sword from the scabbard of the lieutenant at her right.

              “Again, I’m sorry,” she continued as she stepped closer, “but the Dark One has my son, and I can’t get Baelfire back without proof.”

              Milah’s voice was cold, devoid of emotion, as if she had to cut herself off from feeling in order to go through with what she was about to do. Killian watched in morbid fascination as she raised the sword over her head, as if he were watching this happen to someone else. Even when he realized exactly what she was about to do, Killian still thought that it couldn’t be any worse than the pain of her betrayal. But as hard steel sliced through sinew and bone like fire, he learned he was wrong.

                            **************************************************************

              Emma slumped in her uncomfortable, ornate chair (she hated to call it a throne, though it was), a sigh escaping her lips. Her father, to her left, chuckled and patted her hand in understanding. Holding open court was exhausting, even though it was also fulfilling. Watching her parents graciously handle the concerns and difficulties of their people had always been inspiring from the first moment they had allowed her to join them at the age of twelve. Now that she was eighteen, they deferred some of the issues to her, and though she still struggled at times to achieve the same justice mixed with compassion that her parents possessed, it gave her a sense of purpose. She led a blessed, charmed existence (pun completely intended), but she never wanted to be a pampered princess. She wanted to use her position and her gifts to help her people. The way her parents always did.

              Emma sat up quickly, leaning forward slightly with concern as Graham Humbert, Captain of the Royal Guard, strode with purpose through the door. Graham bowed before the three thrones, and when he straightened, Emma could see a combination of worry and righteous indignation in his eyes.

              “Your majesties, I know you are at the end of an exhausting day, but a situation has come to my attention that simply could not wait.”

              “We trust you implicitly, Graham,” Snow assured him with a nod of her head. Emma had heard the story of how Captain Humbert had refused the Evil Queen’s orders to murder Snow. Ever since that courageous decision, he had been her mother’s most trusted guard.

              “It’s about the newest prisoner in the dungeon.”

              “The pirate?” Charming asked, “We have sent word to King Midas that he is here. Midas’ navy has been hunting the man for some time. I knew he would want justice served at home.”

              “I doubt the man will live long enough for that, sir. That’s why I’m here. Misthaven is known for justice, not cruelty.”

              Emma’s hands gripped the arms of her chair in anger as she leaned even further forward, “What’s happening in the dungeon, Graham?”

              “He lost his hand during the arrest, m’lady,” Graham explained. Snow gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “The pirate’s injuries have not been seen too, your majesties. He lies in that cell with a dirty, bleeding stump that I’m sure has become infected. He shivers on a stone floor ravaged with fever.”

              Emma rose with haste from her seat, “Take me to the dungeon immediately.”

              “Emma,” her father said softly, gently grasping her hand, “this isn’t some hungry orphan arrested for stealing. This is a dangerous pirate. I know compassion and mercy in our justice system is your passion, and I love that about you. However, this man is a true criminal. A villain.”

              Emma turned her palm to squeeze her father’s hand, “And wasn’t Aunt Regina? Yet you and mother showed her mercy, and look what happened?”

              Her parents shared a look of pride and love, and Snow gave a gentle nod of her head.

              “Besides,” Emma continued, “even if he deserves to pay for his crimes, he is still a human being. And he should be treated as such while he is in our care.”

              Without further debate, Emma marched from the throne room, clutching a fistful of her skirts to aid her haste. Snow grabbed her husband’s hand and brought it to her lips for a kiss.

              “We have raised her well,” Snow told her husband with a soft smile.

              “Yes, my darling, so we have.”

                            **************************************************************

              It wasn’t Emma’s first visit to the dungeon, so she strode down the cold, wet steps with confident purpose. The guards on duty stumbled to their feet, bowing sheepishly.               “I wish to see the pirate,” Emma told them with an imperious tilt to her chin.

              “Th-that’s not a good idea, miss. He be dangerous, m’lady,”

              Emma heard a groan coming from the nearest cell and turned to see a figure shivering on the cold floor, curled in on himself. Emma turned to the guards, eyes flashing fire.

              “Is that him?”

              “Well, um . . . “

              Emma cut the man off with a slash of her hand in the air, “Just answer the question”

              “Yes, your highness.”

              Emma narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips in a thin line, suppressing her anger, “You call that dangerous?” she hissed.

              Emma ignored the guards' protests, and strode towards the cell in question. She gestured to Graham, who quickly relieved the guard of his keys and unlocked the iron door. Heedless of her pale blue satin gown, Emma sank to the cold stone floor beside the man’s prone form. She took him gently by the shoulders and rolled him towards her, cradling his head in her lap. Even through her silk gloves, she could feel the fever radiating from him. She removed her gloves and handed them to Graham. She rested the back of her cool hand against his brow to find it sweaty and pulsing heat. He shivered in her grasp, his head lolling from side to side as incoherent mumblings fell from his lips. She brushed his thick, dark hair, which was drenched with sweat, from his forehead and whispered words of comfort in an attempt to calm him. In the corner Emma spied a full plate of food, untouched, and a full tankard of water.

              “Has he eaten anything or drunk one sip of water?” Emma snapped at the guards.

              Their shuffling feet and sheepish expressions were all the answer she needed. She reached down and lifted his left arm gently, but despite her tender touch, he still cried out in pain. Emma attempted to peel back the cloth covering the stump, but it was stuck to the wound with dried blood. The man cried out again and attempted feebly to pull away, but not before Emma caught sight of the puss oozing from the obviously infected wound.

              “Has the castle physician been sent to look at this man’s injuries?” Emma demanded, and the silence in the room told her volumes. She eased the man’s head from her lap and stood, resolute, “This man is to be moved to the guest chamber on the east wing immediately.”

              “The Rose Room?” Graham asked with a hint of concern.

              “Of course,” Emma replied, matter-of-factly.

              “Princess,” Graham said gently, “I must object. The Rose Room is right across the hall from you own chambers.”

              “Precisely,” Emma told him, “that way I can see personally to his care.”

              “But –“ Graham protested, “he _is_ a pirate – “

              “He is also a man,” Emma snapped. “Get the palace physician and tell him to meet me in the Rose Room.” Emma glanced around at Graham and the two guards who regarded her with slack-jawed expressions. “Now!” she snapped.

              Graham bowed briefly, and took off to find the doctor. The guards hurried to follow Emma’s instructions as they procured a liter to transport the prisoner more gently to the upper levels of the castle. Once they arrived in the Rose Room, the physician was already there to see to the man. Emma now paced back and forth in the hallway as the man was bathed and given fresh clothes and bandages. At one point, she heard the man cry out, and her heart leapt into her throat at the tortured sound. She practically pounced on the physician as he came out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.

              “How is he?” Emma asked, wringing her hands. She wasn’t sure why her heart went out to this man’s pain so keenly; she didn’t even know him.

              “Well,” the doctor told her, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “I can’t be sure at this point if he’ll make it or not. Infection had set in to the wound. I cleaned it as best I could, even trimmed away some dead tissue.”

              Emma cringed at the very thought.

              “I have given him a brew of herbs to help him sleep and dull the pain. We have to just wait and see if the infection will pass. And his bandages need to be changed daily and a salve applied.”

              “I’ll see to it personally,” Emma assured the doctor.

              “I don’t know if that’s appropriate, princess,” the doctor argued.

              “Appropriate or not, I’m doing it,” Emma retorted stubbornly. “Meet me here tomorrow after the noon meal to show me how to change the dressings.”

              The doctor sighed, knowing from his long relationship with the Charming family that arguing with the princess was futile. “Yes, your highness.”

              Emma turned as if heading for her chambers, but she paused with her hand on the doorknob and watched the doctor head down the corridor and around the corner. Once he was out of view, she turned back towards the guest room, her heart pounding in her chest. She had a compulsion to check on the man, and it wouldn’t let her go. Emma eased the door open and slipped inside the room as quietly as possible. As she had hoped, the man was sound asleep in his bed. She tiptoed across the stone floor, holding her skirts up slightly to keep them from rustling. She stopped, leaning over the bed to take in the face of the man before her.

              She hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the dungeon, so intent was she on the state of his health. But now, she could clearly see how handsome he was. His hair had been thick and soft under her fingers, but now that it had been washed, its dark lustre was more pronounced, and Emma longed to touch it again. Despite the beginnings of a scruffy beard, he was younger than she had expected, perhaps only a couple of years older than Emma herself. How had a man so young come to be captain of a pirate ship? His nose and chin were angular, but in an attractive, almost aristocratic way, and the lashes fluttering against his cheeks were thick and dark. In short, he looked nothing like she imagined a pirate would. The only thing about him that hinted at his violent profession was a small scar on one cheek. Yet the scar did more to add to his handsome features than detract from them.

              He stirred in his sleep, and Emma froze in fear as his eyes slowly opened. He looked at her intensely with the bluest eyes she had ever seen. They were the color of the forget-me-nots that bloomed in her mother’s private gardens. She held her breath, unsure of how he would react to her presence.

              “You’re not Milah,” he said groggily, and Emma wondered if he was still under the effect of the brew the doctor had given him.

              “No,” she whispered softly, “I’m Emma. What’s your name?”

              “Killian,” he muttered, voice fading, “Killian Jones.”

              His eyes fluttered closed again and his head lolled against the pillows. Emma backed away slowly from the room, heart pounding. She slowly closed the door behind her and then fled to her room. She leaned against her chamber door, hand at her throat. Killian Jones. Something about the name thrilled her. And something about those eyes arrested her. She straightened and shook her head, laughing a little at her foolishness. Look at her, acting like a silly schoolgirl. He was an attractive young man with an attractive name to go with his pretty face. But Emma was interested in one thing alone: caring for his injuries as any humane person would. That was all.

                            ******************************************************

              The next day, Emma entered the Rose Room on the heels of the chamber maid who was collecting Killian’s tray from lunch. The doctor was set to arrive at any moment to teach her to change the dressing on Killian’s wound. A bit of nervousness wound its way into Emma’s chest as she approached his bed. Did he remember her staring at him yesterday?

              If he did, it wasn’t a pleasant memory, because as soon as he laid eyes on the princess, he scowled. “What are you doing here?”

              Emma bit her lip as she took in his arched eyebrows and the flash of anger in his blue eyes. Somehow, his anger made him look even more attractive, “I’m taking charge of caring for your wound, Killian. The doctor will be here shortly to show me how to do it properly.” She stood by his bed with her hands crossed at her waist and her chin slightly tipped. It was the posture she always assumed when giving orders as the crown princess. It seemed to have no effect on Killian, however.

              “The hell you are,” he protested vehemently, “and how do you know my name. It’s Captain Jones, thank you very much.”

              Emma’s eyes sparked with anger of their own, “Yes, I am, and you told me your name yourself.”

              Killian’s mouth ticked up at the corner at that, “So I didn’t dream that. The princess of Misthaven really was staring at me as I slept. Don’t be embarrassed lass, I am devilishly handsome.”

              He gave her a saucy wink, and Emma’s face flushed. To cover her embarrassment, she retorted, “I was checking on my patient. And for your information, you smelled awful yesterday and looked worse.”

              The chamber maid made a hasty retreat with the empty lunch tray as princess and her patient stared one another down.

              “I am not allowing you to come anywhere near my . . . my . . .” he glanced down at his stump, his jaw clenching. He covered the bandaged stump of his arm hastily with a blanket and looked away from Emma. “I don’t need any help, especially not from you.”

              Emma sighed in sudden understanding. How could she have been so thoughtless? It wasn’t merely an injury, he had lost his hand. Everything in his life would change from now on; there were so many things he would have to re-learn. He was obviously physically strong, confident, and the leader of a crew of pirates. He didn’t want a female seeing him weak. Emma laid a hand tentatively on his shoulder.

              “The royal family of Misthaven apologizes for how you were treated in our custody. I’m attempting to make it up to you. That is all.”

              He turned to her with narrowed eyes, “Well, the last thing I’m going to do is trust a female. So you can take your royal apology and shove it up your royal arse.”

              “I . . . I . . .” Emma sputtered.

              “Never had anyone talk to you that way before?” Killian spat, “Well, get used to it. Not everyone is going to grovel at your feet.”

              “Why do you have to be so cruel!” Emma shouted, “All I’m trying to do is show you kindness!”

              “The world _is_ cruel, princess. Cruel and full of nothing but pain. And anyone who says otherwise is selling something.”

              Emma almost told him to go to hell. She almost marched right back out of the room. But she was stubborn, and no one told her she couldn’t do something. She was going to dress Killian’s wound whether he liked it or not. Even if being in his presence was the worst hour of her life. The doctor chose that moment to enter the room, and Emma looked down at Killian with her most imperial expression.

              “Sorry, _Captain_ , but I’m your nurse whether you like it or not.”

              Killian clenched his jaw so tight, she was surprised he didn’t break it. He looked away from her, clenching the bedding with his good hand. He refused to look at her as she gently lifted his arm into a basin of warm water, biting his lip to keep from crying out as the water soaked his lacerated skin.

              “Let his arm soak as you prepare the fresh bandages,” the doctor explained, “it will loosen the dried fluids and make it less painful to remove the soiled bandages.”

              Emma followed the doctor’s instructions carefully as she laid out the strips of linen for the bandages and mixed the salve, ignoring Killian completely. Even when she draped a towel across his lap, she avoided eye contact. It wasn’t until Emma removed Killian’s arm from the basin of water that ignoring him became impossible. It was fine at first, as she settled his wet arm across the towel and dried it off. But when she cradled the end of his arm in her hand to begin removing the old bandages, her fingers tingled at the contact. She bit back the gasp that threatened to slip from her throat, but touching him was like touching a live wire. Then came the difficult task of actually peeling the bandage from his tender flesh. She worked as slowly and gently as she could, but she could still feel Killian’s tension and hear his sharp intakes of breath. When his stump was finally exposed, she felt like weeping. The flesh was jagged and mutilated beyond anything she had anticipated. She had to take a deep breath to steady herself. The last thing she wanted was for Killian to see disgust on her features. She turned with practiced calm to the linen strips soaking in salve lying ready on the bedside table. She gently applied them as the doctor gave her instructions, smoothing the linen gently over the curves of Killian’s stump. She finally looked up to see him watching her movements, and when his eyes flickered to her face, she gave him a tiny smile. Killian’s face flamed, and he looked quickly away.

              “Excellent job, Princess,” the doctor enthused, “I couldn’t have done better myself.”

              Emma nodded humbly at the praise, rising to help clean up. The doctor collected his things and turned towards the door. Emma followed him as he gave final instructions, reminding Emma that the bandages needed to be changed daily to clear up the infection and keep any new ones from developing. Emma nodded her thanks as he left and then turned back to Killian.

              “Would you like any company?” she asked hesitantly.

              “Does it look like I want company?” he snapped.

              Emma sighed, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress, “I suppose not.”

              Killian turned away from her, staring pensively out the window.

              “I’ll be back same time tomorrow,” she told him as she headed for the door.

              “Princess,” he called out just as she reached for the door knob.

              “Yes?”

              “Thank you.”

              Emma just gave him a nod and slipped from the room. Her hands trembled at her waist as she made her way down the corridor. After that entire exchange, she should hate the man. But she didn’t. She should teach a chamber maid to tend to his wound. But she wouldn’t.

              Killian Jones had somehow gotten under her skin. No, he had somehow latched onto her very soul. And as little sense as it made, she knew she would never be able to stay away from him. Something about his tortured words and his anguished blue eyes called to her. As if he were a drowning man, and she was his savior.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I am so sorry that it has taken me this long to update this story! For one, I've been busy with multiple MCs, but secondly I just wasn't inspired. But the muse suddenly hit, and I now have this entire fic outlined. It will be longer than two chapters now, though.   
> * I have enjoyed this role reversal with Emma and Killian, and I am so excited about things I've planned as the story continues! So remember, this is Killian with walls and Emma has to break them down.

              The next day, when Emma reported to Killian’s chambers to change his dressings, she was shocked at what she saw. The palace physician stood grimly by the bed where Killian lay, and the state he was in made all residual anger from their previous argument fade away. He was so drenched in sweat, his dark hair was plastered to his forehead and his shirt clung to his chest. He was conscious, but barely, and clearly delirious, his head lolling from side to side and unintelligible grunts and moans escaping his lips. Occasionally, he would say the word “no” or “Milah.” But the worst part of all were the bandages that the physician was removing from his stump as carefully as possible. The bleeding seemed much heavier than it had yesterday, and as Emma came closer she saw blood smeared across the fingers of Killian’s good hand.

              “What happened?” she whispered to the doctor.

              “Well, obviously, his fever is back,” the doctor began as he pulled on a part of the bandages that was stuck fast to bloodied flesh. Killian’s back arched, and he cried out, but his eyes remained closed. Two bright spots of red colored his cheeks.

              “But what happened to his bandages?”

              “Phantom pains. I should have thought of it,” the doctor explained, shaking his head sadly. “The patient feels pain in the limb that is missing. The cut muscles can also spasm. It looks as if he were clawing at his bandages to stop the pain. As his fever worsened and his mental faculties were compromised, he probably became even more frantic to stop the pain.”

              Killian’s body tensed again as the doctor peeled back the final bandage, then he shuddered and collapsed against the pillows. The doctor laid his hand against the man’s forehead and sighed in relief. “He’s unconscious again.”

              Emma felt the room sway as she took in the damage Killian had done in the midst of his phantom pains. She quickly helped the doctor re-bandage the wound, then helped him lift Killian and wake him enough to administer an herbal tea for the fever. The tepid liquid had barely dribbled into his mouth before he was asleep again, and Emma and the doctor eased him back down among the pillows.

              “What can we do for him, doctor?” Emma asked as she straightened. “For the phantom pains, I mean? He can’t keep clawing at the stump that way.”

              “He needs a distraction from it. Preferably something calming.”

              Emma bit her lower lip in thought. How did one go about calming a bloodthirsty pirate?

                            ***********************************************************

              The private quarters of Captain Killian Jones were not at all what Emma had expected. The place was immaculately clean and surprisingly bright. It was situated at the back of the ship, with a bank of windows letting in plenty of sun. It was also nicely furnished, with wrought iron wall sconces and an ornately designed mahogany desk. The bunk was small, but covered in rather opulent bedding. She supposed a successful pirate could accumulate the nicer things in life, but the room didn’t feel like a haphazard collection of booty. She could easily imagine this as the private quarters of a naval captain, not a pirate.

              She walked around the desk to find everything tidily in its place. Drawers revealed the navigational materials any captain would need – maps, a compass, a sextant, but there were also papers that surprised her. A financial ledger, for one, with detailed notes on the payment for services rendered for each member of the crew. Perhaps there was honor among thieves after all. Another drawer contained loose papers that Emma could make neither head nor tail of – notes jotted in some type of secret shorthand, a sketch of a plant, and something that looked suspiciously like a treasure map, covered in squiggles that meant nothing to her, but probably did to the pirate who had made them. Emma felt no guilt whatsoever sifting through Killian’s things. Until she came to another sketch. This one was of a beautiful woman, with a fierce and wordly face. She gazed at it for a moment, wondering if this was the Milah Killian kept crying out for in his fevered state. The man’s face swam before her mind’s eye, anger sparking in his blue eyes at this invasion of privacy. Guilt suddenly pricked Emma, and she started to shove the drawing back where she had found it.

              But something caught her eye that made her pause. In the corner of the sketch, the initials KJ had been scrawled. Emma smiled to herself as she returned the drawing to its hiding place. So the pirate was also an artist. He was also right handed, so if she got him some charcoal and parchment, it would hopefully provide him a much needed distraction.

              Emma stood from the desk and began looking at the bookshelves that lined one wall. She was expecting them to be records of some sort or nautical volumes. She was surprised instead to discover that most were novels. Novels of adventure, legends and quests, even some romances. Emma pulled one after another from their place and opened them to find them cared for, but well-worn, as if they had been read many times. She supposed life on a pirate ship was not as exciting as one would think. She knew from her many sea voyages to visit her friends in Arendelle that the time could pass slowly. Clearly, Killian had used these novels to pass many lonely days at sea.

              Emma noticed several with the same name inscribed in the front cover: Liam Jones. A father? A brother? Whoever this Liam was, the novels that had belonged to him were the most worn of all. Either Killian read them more frequently, or he had owned them the longest. Perhaps a father had read these to him when he was a boy?

              With a nod of satisfaction, Emma headed for the stairs. She better knew this man now, and felt certain she could help him keep his mind from the physical pain that was torturing him. When she came above deck, Graham turned to her with a relieved smile. She didn’t know why she needed a chaperone to tour the Jolly Roger, but Graham had insisted he accompany her, claiming that even though it was in royal custody, there were many other pirates who would like to get their hands on such a fine ship.

              “Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked her.

              Emma smiled brightly, “Yes, I did. I . . .” Emma trailed off as something in the distance caught her eye. She stepped closer, leaning against the railing as she gazed at the castle.

              Her own balcony provided a perfect view of the Jolly Roger and the sea.

                             **********************************************

              Emma was in her royal element, ordering the servants who were rearranging the furniture in her quarters. Maids scurried back and forth, moving Emma’s entire wardrobe of gowns, riding clothes, and underthings to the Rose Room. She pointed to a small table and ordered one of the men to move it so it was right next to the bed. Three other men grunted as they pushed her four-poster bed so that it looked out onto the balcony. Satisfied, Emma grinned in excitement as she turned to see Killian walking painfully through the door, leaning against Graham. He was still as pale as a ghost from the fever, and the simple task of walking across the hall had caused beads of sweat to come out on his forehead.

              “What kind of nurse is cruel enough to kick her patient out of his room?”

              He was so weak, and the argument so feeble, Emma just shook her head. Graham lowered Killian to the mattress, and Emma hurried to help him into bed. He collapsed against the pillows, breathing hard. Emma moved to the balcony, excitement welling up inside.

              “I know it seems cruel to change your room –“

              “Or much too kind,” Graham cut in, face grim. He hadn’t liked the idea of Emma allowing a pirate in her personal chambers. Emma just glared at him.

              “As I was saying,” Emma continued, “I know it seems odd, but the doctor said you needed something calming. And the Rose Room doesn’t have this view.” At that Emma, pulled back the curtains. Through the opened French doors to the private balcony, the sea stretched out in glittering blue, and the sun poured in. Ships could be seen bobbing in the harbor, the most recognizable being the blue and gold hull of Killian’s ship, the Jolly Roger.

              Emma watched his reaction nervously, and inwardly exulted as a smile lit his face and his eyes widened with joy. It only lasted a moment, then he shuttered his face into the practiced one of dangerous and world weary pirate.

              “I suppose it will do,” he tossed out with a smirk.

              But Emma knew better. Phase one in operation tame the pirate was complete.

                             *************************************************

              “I’m perfectly capable of reading on my own! Or do you assume me nothing but a simple-minded pirate?”

              Emma clutched the books she had brought to her chest and rolled her eyes as she regarded Killian. “I know you can read. I saw the novels you keep on your ship.”

              He narrowed his eyes at her. “You were snooping around my things?”

              Emma sighed as she sat tentatively at the end of the bed. She had finished bandaging Killian’s wound and was now trying to coax him out onto the balcony where she could read to him. Having a view of the ocean had helped him tremendously, but she was only across the hall. She heard his cries in the night.

              “I was merely trying to solve the mystery of a very complex man,” Emma explained, hoping stroking his ego a little bit would do the trick.

              Emma wasn’t surprised when Killian leaned closer, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

              She stood, ignoring his flirting, and held out her hand. “Come out on the balcony and enjoy the view while I read to you.”

              “And what am I supposed to be looking at?”

              “The horizon,” Emma explained with a withering voice, “I think it will be calming.”

              “Well so’s rum,” he quipped with a grin.

              Emma leaned forward and spoke in a theatrical whisper, “If you cooperate, maybe I’ll sneak some up.”

              Killian heaved an exaggerated sigh, but took her hand and allowed her to help him up and across the room. Emma wasn’t sure if the color that rose to his cheeks was due to his illness or shame from appearing so weak in her presence. Killian settled in one of the chairs on the balcony, and Emma took the one opposite him.

              “I noticed a few of my favorites that were lacking in your collection,” Emma said as she opened the first volume on her lap. “I thought I’d start with _The Princess Bride_ by S. Morgenstern.”

              “You think a pirate will enjoy a tale with such a saccharine title?” Killian scoffed.

              “For your information, it has pirates in it. And giants. And duels to the death.”

              “I suppose I’ll give it a try . . .” Killian grumbled as he settled back in his chair.

              Emma ignored his attitude and simply began to read. She was relieved to see out of the corner of his eye that he was gazing out at the water and was visibly relaxed. All of a sudden, however, he started up.

              “What did you just read?”

              Emma startled. “Um . . . “ she searched for her place, and then read, “ _This is true love, Westley assured Buttercup, do you think this happens every day? Then they embraced –_ “

              Killian interrupted her with a loud snort, and she was concerned to see him kneading the arm of the chair with his good hand. She reached out and ran her hand down his arm, hoping to help him relax.

              “Killian, you can’t get so worked up. You’ll cause the muscles in your injured arm to tense up.”

              “Injured?” Killian scoffed, waving his stump at her. “You call this injured? A bloody, mangled stump of flesh is what this is. And what that book spouts,” Killian’s voice rose in anger as he gestured towards the volume Emma held in her lap, “is a pile of rubbish.”

              Emma regarded him silently for a long moment, then she looked down at the pages of her favorite book, running a hand over the illustrations. “Have you ever been in love?”

              She wasn’t sure what had compelled her to ask such a personal question. She met his gaze and watched as his blue eyes darkened and a shadow fell across his face. “No,” he answered calmly, “I have never been in love.”

              “Then who’s Milah?” Emma was bold enough to ask.

              Killian’s eyes grew wide, and Emma was suddenly inexplicably afraid. Did he know that Emma had heard him crying out Milah’s name? Would he find out she had seen the woman’s picture? But then his eyes darted down to his right wrist, and he turned it towards him. The sleeve slipped down, and Emma saw it, too. A tattoo of a heart with the name Milah written across it. Killian glanced up at her, then tugged the sleeve down.

              “No one of consequence,” he choked out, “and this tattoo is one I regret ever getting.” He continued to stare down at the spot now covered by his sleeve, then clenched his right hand into a fist. “Now it will be a reminder to never trust anyone again.”

              “You speak with a lot of passion for someone who’s never been in love.”

              Killian pierced her with his blue eyes as he admitted hoarsely, “Maybe I was. Once.” He tore his eyes away from Emma’s face and gazed out at the horizon. “Please, princess. Continue your reading.”

              Emma forced herself to stop studying his handsome profile and focused instead on the pages in her lap. She read on and on until the sun burned low and Killian dozed in the chair, the breeze blowing his dark hair. Watching him sleep, Emma thought she had never seen anything that was both so beautiful and tragic.

                            ******************************************************

              Emma finished _The Princess Bride_ , then followed that with the love story of Merlin and Nimue. She was currently reading the story of Captain Nemo and his amazing submarine, The Nautilus, and still Killian was as prickly as ever. She stopped reading earlier than usual, slamming the book shut loudly.

              “Why do you dislike me so much?”

              “Because I don’t trust you.” He said it so simply, like it should be obvious.

              “Why?” Emma pressed.

              Killian sighed and turned from the ocean view to regard her with a cold, steely glare that made the blue of his eyes almost seem gray. “Have you ever heard the saying _all women are descended from Delilah_?”

              “Yes,” Emma grumbled, “and it’s a ridiculous expression.”

              “Do you know its origins?”

              Emma set the book she had been reading aside, and smoothed her skirts, “Yes, I do. It comes from the legend of Samson and Delilah.”

              “That’s correct,” Killian said, eyes narrowed.

              She thought he might elaborate, but when he didn’t, she carried on. “Samson had supernatural strength, and the Philistines wanted to capture him. So they paid his lover, Delilah, to discover the source of his strength. After much begging and pleading, he finally told her it was because his hair had never been cut.” Emma chuckled. “Can you imagine a man who never once cut his hair? Did he braid it or something?”

              Emma’s joke did nothing to lighten Killian’s mood. Without looking her way, Killian continued the tale. “Delilah lured Samson to sleep in her lap. As he slept, completely trusting in his lover’s embrace, the Philistines came and cut off all his hair. When he awoke, he was so weak they easily subdued him and gouged out his eyes.” Killian sighed, finally looking at her. “It’s a sad tale. With a moral I wish I had heeded.”

              “Oh what?” Emma snapped. “That women can’t be trusted? You don’t like me simply because I’m a woman?”

              “Well you’re a royal, too,” Killian spat.

              Emma couldn’t help the righteous indignation that rose up in her. “Who has done nothing but try to help you!”

              Killian’s face contorted, not with rage, but with deep grief and pain. “A royal took my brother, and a woman took my hand. So forgive me if your presence doesn’t fill me with warm, fuzzy feelings.”

              Killian’s chest rose and fell quickly with the heat of his words as he stared at her. Then Emma saw a startled look cross his face, as if he hadn’t meant to reveal so much. He looked quickly away out to sea, and his next words were spoken low and broken.

              “Please, princess, leave me.”

              Emma slipped away as quickly and quietly as she could. He had walls around his heart so high, they seemed impossible to scale. But Princess Emma loved a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have changed my writing schedule around. I will be starting my season seven divergence next week. Then I plan on alternating updating that story and this one on Sundays or Tuesdays. So look for this to be updated every two weeks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I'll warn you ahead of time that Emma and Killian have no interactions with each other in this chapter. However, the exposition in this chapter is important for what is to come. I had to set up a lot here, so just stick with me!  
> * Remember that Emma is 18. Just a reminder because she acts like it in this chapter. Killian isn't much older - I will give his age later.

              The farmyard was quiet as Emma approached on her brown mare, Buttercup. She dismounted and hitched the horse to a low fence, then approached the modest wattle and daub structure. A late spring chill had descended, and smoke curled upward from the farmhouse’s chimney. Emma’s nerves were a mess as she stepped through the muddy yard, chickens flapping out of her way. Maybe this was a foolish endeavor. Yet despite her nerves, Emma lifted her gloved hand and knocked on the splintered wood door.

              After Killian’s revelation about his former mistress, Emma had gone to Graham for more information on the details of the pirate’s arrest. There was no wonder the poor man identified so strongly with the story of Samson and Delilah.

              “I wasn’t there,” Graham explained, “but I heard that she orchestrated the whole thing. She assured our guards that she would convince him to stay aboard while the rest of the crew took their shore leave. She told our guards to listen for a lullaby. When she sang the second verse, it would be their cue. They found him asleep in her lap, as trusting as a babe.”

              Emma had shaken her head in disbelief. But that was nothing compared to the rest. Emma had thought Killian meant it figuratively when he said Milah took his hand. She was absolutely horrified to hear that the woman had done the deed herself.

              When the door swung open, Emma recognized the woman from the drawing in Killian’s quarters. His artistry had done a wonderful job of capturing her beauty, fire, and strong presence. But there were some things a mere drawing just couldn’t convey. Like her steely gray eyes or the way her five foot eight frame towered over Emma’s diminutive five foot five. Emma felt like a child in comparison to her, especially since she could clearly see that the woman was significantly older than Emma. And Killian, for that matter. The woman’s eyes narrowed at first, and then they widened as she recognized who Emma was.

              “Princess Emma!” she exclaimed, sketching a quick bow. “Why has the crown princess seen fit to visit our humble home?”

              A little boy of about five with curly dark hair matching his mother’s peeked around Milah. Emma smiled at him, and he shyly hid his face in his mother’s skirts.

              “I was wondering if I could speak to you,” Emma explained, shoving her nervousness aside, “about the pirate you helped us capture.”

              Milah’s eyes flickered with surprise. “He’s alive?”

              “Y-yes,” Emma assured, slightly surprised at the woman’s tone. She seemed almost – disappointed. Emma examined the woman’s face, then added hesitantly, “May I come in?”

              “Of course, your majesty,” she said quickly, stepping aside and gesturing Emma in.

              “Please, it’s Emma.”

              Milah gestured for Emma to sit at a small dining table of roughhewn wood. Emma watched her put a kettle of tea on the hearth, noting the slight trembling of her hands. The little boy drew nearer to Emma cautiously, but his mother quickly shooed him outside. Milah chattered on with small talk, about the weather, the crops, until the kettle sang. Only when both women had a warm teacup to clasp did Emma broach once again the reason for her visit.

              “I’m curious as to why a farmer’s wife was aboard a pirate ship,” Emma began cautiously. She took a sip of her tea, eying Milah over the rim of her cup.

              The woman glanced at her lap, then took a deep breath. She lifted her chin and met Emma’s gaze head on with those cool slate eyes. “I was there to save my son, princess. The pirate in exchange for my son’s freedom. It was simple as that.”

              Emma cocked an eyebrow as she lowered her cup. “But you were the pirate’s lover.”

              The woman had the decency to blush at the simple fact. “I didn’t mean for it to go so far. The Dark One,” she paused and took a deep breath, “actually, let me go back to the beginning. My son was bit by a poisonous asp. Rare. No one had an antidote. So my husband and I went to the Dark One. He healed our son, but we didn’t read the fine print of his deal. The price was that my son had to remain with him.”

              Milah took a sip of her tea, collecting her thoughts. “We begged him to let our son go, and Rumplestiltskin proposed another deal. A pirate had stolen from him. If we could bring about Killian Jones’ capture, my little Baelfire could go free. I had to bring Captain Jones’ hand as proof.”

              “Why his hand?” Emma asked, unable to keep the grimace from her face. Her mind’s eye immediately went to Killian’s mutilated stump and his fevered cries.

              Milah shrugged. “Because he stole? I didn’t really care. All I wanted was my son back. Of course, how does one go about tricking a pirate? The Dark One laughed. He said surely an attractive woman like me could turn a pirate’s head. The fairer sex, he assured me, was Killian Jones’ one weakness.”

              Milah paused in her telling, turning to gaze into the fire. “But how could I do such a thing? I was a married woman! But my husband, Joel, assured me that our marriage would survive. We had to save Baelfire, and he would love me no matter what. Little did we know how difficult it would be.”

              “Why . . . difficult?” Emma tried to sound nonchalant, praying the woman wouldn’t find her inquiries odd. But Milah seemed so relieved to finally be telling the entire tale, that she wasn’t stopping to question Emma’s reasons.

              “My husband and I both assumed it would only require a one night stand. But Killian was surprisingly a gentleman. The first night I met him, he stood up to a giant brute who was accosting me. I kept going back to the tavern night after night, but never did he push himself upon me or ply me with drink. Yet I could tell he was enamored of me. Finally, after a week in port, Killian offered me a place with his crew. He even guaranteed my safety. I hated the thought of leaving Joel, but my husband insisted it was the only way.”

              “So you sailed away with him,” Emma supplied.

              “Aye,” Milah leaned back in her chair, gathering her thin shawl about her shoulders, “the first night I cried myself to sleep. Killian gave me my own private quarters, so it wasn’t fear. It was homesickness and . . . dread over what I had to do. Over time, Killian fell in love with me, just as I had planned. He trusted me so much that he made me his first mate. The crew came to honor my orders as much as Killian’s. I played my part well, acting the role of the pirate queen to his captain. I came, of course, to share his quarters.”

              “How long were you at sea?”

              “We made port here and there, but it was eight months until we returned to the Enchanted Forest. I had mixed feelings as I saw the shores of home. On the one hand, I was eager to hold my husband and my son in my arms again. But on the other, I knew the time had come to betray the very man who had treated me so well. A man who loved me.” Milah’s hands shook again as she ran her fingers along the edge of her teacup. She took a long, shuddering breath before raising her eye’s to Emma’s again. “I suppose you know the rest?”

              Emma simply nodded. Silence fell between the two women as they finished their tea. Then Milah leveled Emma with an intense look, “Pardon me, your highness, but why exactly did you come to see me?”

              Emma hesitantly bit her lip before speaking. “Killian is recovering from his injury in our castle. He won’t be handed over to King Midas until he is well. I . . . just thought you should know. In case you want to see him.”

              Milah’s eyes widened as Emma’s implication dawned upon her fully. “You . . . think I fell in love with him?”

              It was Emma’s turn to widen her eyes in surprise. “You didn’t?”

              Milah laughed wryly. “I won’t deny that he is an attractive man or that he was . . . skillful as a lover. But I was merely playing a part. There were times I was sick to my stomach for betraying my Joel.”

              Emma shook her head, “You didn’t mean any of it? You played the part that well?”

              Milah’s eyes went hard as granite as the next words fell from her lips, clipped and harsh. “With my Joel, I have a future. What future is there with a dirty pirate destined for the hangman’s noose?”

              Emma sucked in a sudden breath and leaned back. Milah shook her head vehemently, the dark curls bouncing against her shoulders. The look she gave the princess dripped with disdain.

              “You are obviously incredibly naïve, little princess. I never loved Killian Jones.”

                             ***************************************************

              “That is an incredibly tragic tale.”

              Snow White shook her head sadly as she lowered her wine goblet. David sat to her left, and Emma across from her parents. Unlike some royals who dined in a massive hall at opposite ends of an enormous table, Emma and her parents dined in a smaller room off the kitchen for their regular evening meals, cozily gathered together for intimate conversation. The dining hall was only for entertaining guests.

              Emma shook her head in agreement with her mother as she cut a piece of roast. “I don’t know how Milah could do something so cold-hearted.”

              Snow turned to her husband with an understanding glance, “It’s amazing the lengths parents will go to for their children.”

              Emma chewed thoughtfully, her eyes darting between her parents. She swallowed, took a sip of wine, then argued, “But neither of you would ever be . . . unfaithful to one another. You would find another way.”

              “True,” David agreed readily, “but putting ourselves in someone else’s shoes is always important, Emma.”

              Emma couldn’t refrain from rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry, but I don’t _want_ to put myself in that woman’s shoes. And it isn’t just that she betrayed Killian so violently. What kind of woman goes to _bed_ with a man, pretends to _love_ him, knowing all the while it’s a lie?” Emma speared a roasted potato with her fork, but then gazed into the fire blazing in the hearth instead of eating it. She twirled it on the end of her fork as she rested her chin in her hand. “How did she not fall in love with him?”

              Emma missed the concerned glance between her parents at her musing. David cleared his throat, and Emma came back to herself, popping the potato into her mouth.

              “The story Milah told brings up other questions,” David told his wife and daughter.

              “How so?” Snow asked, her brow furrowed.

              “The man Milah described doesn’t sound at all like any pirates I’ve ever heard of. A gentleman? A man who treats a woman with respect? Who takes good care of his crew?” David rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “There’s also no record of The Jolly Roger attacking any of Misthaven’s ships.”

              “What are you saying, David?”

              “I’m saying that I’m going to ask Graham to look more closely into Captain Killian Jones. Before we hand him over to King Midas.”

                            *******************************************************

              Emma hurried across the cobblestone courtyard, then dashed up the steps to Regina’s private chambers as quickly as she could. The brunette stood regally on the other side of the room, dressed in a figure-hugging gown of deep red velvet, her back to Emma. She spoke without even turning.

              “You’re late.”

              Emma exhaled as she removed her ermine cloak and tossed it onto a nearby chair. She was ready for this cold snap to pass and spring weather to resume. The doctor said it would be better for Killian’s recovery as well.

              “I know,” she panted, still winded from her run, “but the doctor needed my help fitting Killian for his brace. He says adjusting to it is bound to hurt.”

              That was an understatement. Killian’s temper had been worse than usual because of it.

              Regina arched a finely penciled brow as she turned to face her student, crossing her arms over her chest. “The pirate again?”

              “Yes,” Emma answered with a shrug, “the doctor won’t give him a clean bill of health until he adjusts to the brace and hook.”

              A hook. Emma’s heart sank at the thought. The doctor said it would be the most helpful type of prosthetic, especially if Killian ever found his way on to a ship again. The curve seemed violent and intimidating, but it was useful in grabbing, pulling, and doing a hundred other tasks that were usually done with four fingers and a thumb. He was giving Killian a wooden hand covered in a black leather glove as well, but it would be merely cosmetic.

              Regina sighed and lowered her arms. “I suppose I shouldn’t scoff. If not for your parent’s mercy, where would I be?” Regina smiled at Emma, and the princess returned it. It seemed her tardiness had been forgiven. “Although I hear it was _your_ mercy this time, princess?”

              Emma shrugged. “It was the right thing to do.”

              Regina nodded, but then her expression turned serious as she rested her splayed hands atop a satchel full of ingredients for potions. “Having said that, however, you mustn’t neglect your studies, Emma. The study of magic takes commitment.”

              Emma answered with equal gravity. “I know, Regina.”

              With that, the former evil queen began Emma’s lesson. Today, it was a tedious one, memorizing the ingredients used in potions and what type of spells were used with the different combinations. Emma’s head spun trying to keep track of what mixtures created a memory potion versus a locator potion, and which ingredients were only used in dark magic, never light. Of course, most of the dark ingredients weren’t things Emma would ever _want_ to acquire, like the dying scream of one’s enemy or the blood of a pregnant woman.

              As the lesson wound down, Emma glanced nervously at Regina, gnawing at her lower lip. Regina’s lip quirked upward as she slipped bottles back into her satchel.

              “Spit it out, princess,” she said with a laugh.

              Emma took a deep breath. “Can magic . . . restore something a person has lost?”

              Regina regarded Emma intently, brushing her long dark ponytail off her shoulder. “That depends on what was lost.” She searched Emma’s eyes for a moment. “If you’re referring to your pirate’s hand, that’s dark magic.”

              Emma let out a breath in a long sigh. “That seems so unfair. Why is that dark?”

              “Because it goes against the natural way of things. If a person is injured or dies, it goes against nature to undo that.”

              Emma pressed her lips together in thought. “So light magic can never save someone from dying?”

              “It can cure someone _before_ the injury is complete. And . . .” Regina seemed to hesitated for a moment.

              “And what?” Emma asked eagerly.

              “I don’t know for sure that it’s ever been done, but . . . they say that a true love couple can share a heart.”

              “Like my parents? They could share one heart if they needed to?”

              Regina nodded. Then she took Emma’s hand and led her to the couch near the fire. “But Emma, listen to me carefully. Many people have succumbed to the temptation of dark magic in the name of love. I know I did. You must never, ever, take that dark path. The cost is too great.”

              Emma laughed and shook her head. “Don’t be silly, Regina, I’d never do that.”

              Regina smiled sadly as she pulled Emma close in a hug. She ran her hand over Emma’s hair, hoping that this girl whom she loved like a daughter would always heed her warning. Emma pulled away, and Regina grinned at her before the girl dashed off eagerly for home.

Long after she was gone, Regina gazed into the fire and wondered if Snow and David had any idea that their daughter was falling in love with a pirate. More than that, she worried what dark roads that love may carry Princess Emma down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I based the age difference between Milah and Killian on the fact that Rachel Shelley is 12 years older than Colin. The height difference I gave between Milah and Emma is also that between Rachel Shelley and JMO. So there's your trivia for today :)  
> * In the next chapter, there will be plenty of interactions between Emma and Killian as our Captain will be adjusting to his disability. I think it will more than make up for the lack of CS in this chapter. Although . . . I did say this was a slow burn right? No? Well, sorry, but it is ;)


	4. Chapter 4

       When Emma approached Killian’s door a few days later for their reading time, she found the door slightly ajar. Without thinking, she stepped through without knocking, softly calling his name. Her mouth fell open and her heart raced in her chest to find Killian shirtless. The muscles across his shoulders and his back rippled invitingly as he struggled with a leather strap and buckle that criss-crossed his back. The leather straps continued across the shoulder of his left arm, attached by more buckles to a leather apparatus that covered Killian’s stump.

       Emma swallowed down her reaction to his muscular frame and stepped quickly forward. “Let me help you.”

       He jerked towards her, the surprise at her presence quickly morphing to anger. “Get out!” he snapped.

       She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so stubborn. It’s hard for anyone to reach around to their own back.”

       Killian flinched and backed away as her fingers brushed the edge of the straps. “I said, _get out!_ ”

       “Look, I know you want to be independent, but it will take some time, and –“

       “I don’t want you to see me like this!”

       He screamed the words in her face, his eyes blazing with rage. Bewildered, she stumbled backwards, and his face crumpled at her reaction. He had frightened her, and she could see how much it pained him. He ripped the leather contraption from his torso and flung it violently across the room. Then he sank to the bed, lowering his head to his good hand.

       “I asked you to leave,” he said to her softly.

       Emma stood there, unsure what to do. She wanted to respect his wishes, but at the same time she wanted to assure him that his disability didn’t change the strong, capable man that he was. She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, as far away from him as she could without sliding to the floor. She just sat there watching the rise and fall of his chest. He still kept his face down, covered by his one hand. His stump rested on the bed. Emma had touched that stump for weeks now as she changed the dressings. She had watched the jagged, raw flesh heal to smooth, pink new skin with faint scars. If he thought it was hideous to her, he was wrong. She inched her fingers across the bedcovers, but before she could touch his arm, he jerked away.

       “Please, Princess,” he whispered brokenly, turning his face away and tucking his stump against his chest, “for once just do as I ask.”

       Tears pricked Emma’s eyes as she watched his shame. As much as she hated it, she knew there was nothing she could say right now to help him. She needed to honor his wishes. She stared at his back for a few more moments, wondering at the scars that she could see now that the straps of the brace were gone. They were faint lines, as if they were very old. Too old to have been punishment for piracy. What life had he led in the past to give him such scars? Emma sighed, worried he may never open up to her.

       “Okay,” she told him, and rose to go. She paused at the door, “But maybe you should try something new. It’s called trust.”

              *****************************************************

       Emma had learned her lesson. The next time she came to Killian’s chambers, she knocked on the door. Instead of calling for her to come in, Killian himself opened the door, fully dressed in his billowy black shirt and leather pants. He must have mastered buckling the brace, because at the end of his left arm was a shiny metal hook. Emma glanced at it, then grinned up at him. He blinked at her in surprise.

       “Why are you back?”

       Emma breezed past him into the room, “I said I would be.”

       Killian didn’t move from the doorway. “You don’t have to read to me anymore. I’m fully recovered.”

       Emma glanced over her shoulder at him as she reached for the handles of the French doors leading to the balcony, “Maybe I wanted to come.”

       Killian leaned back against the doorjamb, crossing his arms idly over his chest and cocking an eyebrow at her. “Unlikely. You can’t possibly enjoy my prickly personality.”

       Emma threw the doors wide and turned fully to face him, a flirtatious smile on her lips. “I quite fancy you from time to time. When you’re not yelling at me.”

She forced herself to keep his gaze, her smile never faltering. Finally, he smiled back. He pushed himself upright, then turned and shut the door. He walked towards her, never breaking eye contact, and something about the cocky way he sauntered into her personal space had her heart racing. He leaned towards her, taking the book she had brought from her hands. Still looking deeply into her eyes, he wet his lips. Emma’s knees suddenly felt like they were made of water. Did he know the effect he had on her? Of course he did!

Killian gestured towards the balcony. “How about today, _I_ read to _you_?”

Emma’s breath came out in a shaky rush, and when she spoke she hated that it sounded almost like a squeak. “Okay.”

Killian’s grin widened and became almost shy as he motioned for Emma to be seated first. He sat with the book in his lap, nervously scratching behind his ear before opening it. He cleared his throat and began to read.

Emma sat back in her chair, letting his words roll over her. She knew his voice was melodious, warm, and seductive, but hearing him read was like taking the most pleasant bath. It made every muscle relax and filled her with a delicious drowsiness. Yet he read with such conviction and passion that napping was impossible, so invested was she in the story of a princess under a curse that transformed her into a swan. Only by the light of the full moon was she a princess again, and her only hope at breaking the curse was the power of true love. She did in fact meet a prince one night while in her true form, a prince who quickly fell in love with her. When the prince, out on a hunt, shot Princess Odette while in the form of a swan, Emma leaned forward, her hands gripping the arm rests of her seat. Killian looked up at her then, a playful grin crossing his lips.

“I think we must stop there for today,” he said firmly, closing the book.

“What?” Emma exclaimed. “You can’t stop there!”

“Why not?” Killian teased with a shrug. “She probably dies anyway.”

Emma scowled at him and slumped back in her chair. “You are such a pessimist.”

“And how are you so irritatingly optimistic?”

“Because the minute I let myself believe that things won’t get better is the minute they won’t.” Emma argued with conviction. “Hope is a powerful thing.”

“And false hope is the most cruel thing you can give a person,” Killian countered. “Like you’ve been giving me.”

Emma rose up, indignant. “How have I given you false hope?”

Killian tossed the book aside and rose as well, leaning close to her face. “I know I’ll be shipped off to Midas soon.”

Emma crossed her arms. “Then why haven’t you left? _Pirate_.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Emma wanted them back.

Killian just scoffed. “Good form, Princess, that’s why. Good form.”

Emma didn’t know how to respond to that, so she just gave him a withering glare and pushed him aside to grab the book. Without looking back, she stomped back through the French doors.

“Don’t pretend you know me, Princess,” he called after her.

Emma reached for the door knob, but then looked back at him before walking out. “Perhaps I’d like to.” Then, with a sigh, she left.

             *********************************************************

       Today Emma’s spirits were the highest they had ever been. She raced down the hall towards Killian’s chambers, her face filled with the widest of grins. Killian had said she had given him false hope. She wondered giddily if he had changed his tune today.

       She also couldn’t deny the spark of hope that alighted in her heart about what this might mean for _them_. It was a possibility now where it wasn’t before. They could be together, and Emma knew now beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was what she wanted. More than anything. She had fallen in love with Killian Jones. She couldn’t even pinpoint when it happened, but it had. Maybe now that fate had smiled upon him, she had hope of breaking down the walls he had erected around his heart.

       Emma knocked, and Killian called out for her to come in. Her forehead furrowed in confusion at the sight that met her eyes. Killian was packing his leather satchel.

       “What are you doing? My father pardoned you.”

       “Which is precisely why I’m packing,” Killian replied cooly. He stood to face her, ducking his head to pull the leather strap over and onto his shoulder. He straightened it and grinned at her. “So this is farewell, Princess.”

       Emma stepped in his path, placing a hand to his chest. “But my father offered you a commission in his royal navy. He was impressed at how you’ve been attempting to thwart Midas’ immoral warfare tactics. He knows you only attack military ships.” Emma paused and took a deep breath. “He knows about your brother.”

       Killian’s eyes flickered and for a moment Emma could see through his walls. Could see the hurt and pain he hid behind sarcasm and bravado. He tilted his head back and sighed deeply. When he looked at her again, the moment had passed, and he was once again hard as granite. But Emma could still read him.

       “Yes, he explained all of that to me. But I can’t do what needs to be done if I have to report to a sovereign. Midas is dangerous and not above using unholy weapons. The last thing I want is to drag your kingdom into a war with such an unscrupulous man.” Killian lifted his hand and traced Emma’s cheek with his fingertips. “Even women and children aren’t safe from his cruelty.”

       Emma couldn’t help herself; her eyes slid closed and she leaned into his touch. For a brief, wonderful moment, his hand cupped her face. Then he quickly pulled it away. He moved to step around her, but Emma grasped his arm.

       “I – I could go with you,” she told him, her voice wobbling. Was she really suggesting this? “You could work with the navy clandestinely; I could report back to my father.”

       Killian’s face became sad as he gently pried her hand from his arm. “Last time I took a woman to sea with me, it ended badly,” he told her softly.

       “I’m not Milah,” Emma argued with conviction. She stepped closer and put both hands to his chest. “We could make quite the team. I know you feel it too.”

       He lifted his eyes to look into hers slowly, their cerulean depths filled with torment. When he finally spoke, it was so low, Emma had to almost press her forehead to his in order to hear it. “I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you.”

       He then pulled her hands away from his chest, brushing a kiss to her fingertips. Then he strode quickly for the door.

       “Killian,” Emma called out to him. He turned to look at her. “Not a day will go by that I won’t think of you.” Her voice hitched and her smile wobbled at the words.

       Killian’s answering grin was sad and full of regret and a thousand _what ifs_.

       “Good” was all he said before he strode through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Don't hate me! Remember, this is a slow burn. Besides, there are plenty more CS moments for me yet to flip ;)  
> * Coming up, Misthaven finds themselves in a brutal war with King Midas. Princess Emma thinks a certain pirate can help . . .


	5. Chapter 5

              The sun of early afternoon reflected brightly off the surface of the waves as the royal ship of Misthaven raced quickly across the water. Emma craned her neck and squinted up at the flag of parley flapping in the brisk wind. A smile flirted at the corners of her mouth as she turned her gaze back to the horizon, her eyes straining for a glimpse of the bright blue and yellow hull of the Jolly Roger.

              “I suppose,” grumbled Graham to her right, “there is no point in telling you once again that I think this is a bad idea.”

              Emma shook her head even as a soft laugh bubbled from her throat. “It didn’t make a difference the first dozen times you said it.”

              “No,” Graham muttered, glaring against the brightness of the sun, “I suppose it didn’t.”

              A sailor from the crow’s nest shouted that a ship had been sighted. Emma raced to the deck’s railing, shoving her hair back as the wind sent it slapping across her face.

              “Careful, your highness,” Graham warned, “I don’t entirely trust pirates to obey the code of parley.”

              “ _He_ will,” Emma declared with unveiled conviction.

              Graham was practically beside himself with worry, which half amused Emma. “We don’t even know for sure yet if it’s him.”

              Emma raised her hand to shield her eyes against the glare. A wide smile split her face as she recognized the stately ship with its pristine colors. “It is. It’s The Jolly Roger.”

                            *****************************************************

              If Graham was beside himself with worry before, Emma knew that now he had to be on the verge of a heart attack. She could hear him pacing on the other side of the door to the captain’s quarters. He had been loath to agree to this arrangement: Emma meeting with a pirate captain alone in his quarters, but she had insisted that this was the only way. Besides, if Killian were planning on harming her or violating her virtue, he had had plenty of opportunities to do so when he was residing in the castle. _With both your father and I within shouting distance._ Emma had rolled her eyes at that. _And you’re not in shouting distance **now** , on this much smaller ship?_

              Emma looked around at Killian’s quarters, finding it just as impeccably neat as the first time she had seen it. The captain himself had taken a seat behind the ornate desk. He was leaning back casually, smirking openly at her, his tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth. An act; a defensive mechanism, if Emma judged correctly. Although to a casual eye he would appear every bit the devilish rogue with thick kohl now outlining his eyes and his hair disheveled. He hadn’t trimmed it since leaving the castle, and it curled at the nape of his neck. The sight of it made Emma’s fingers itch to touch it.

              “So princess,” Killian said, slowly dragging out the last syllable, “what brings you way out here, running up the flag of parley, hm? Come for my ship after all?”

              Emma’s face softened despite the harsh words. “I came for you.”

              The veil of bravado slipped for one split second, and she watched with pleasure as Kilian blinked rapidly. In unguarded moments, he looked so much younger. He looked his age.

              “For me?” he finally replied, arching a brow. The veil had slipped back. He rose from the desk and sauntered close to her, leaning into her personal space. When he spoke again, a snarl colored his words, “Whatever could you possibly want with me?”

              Emma could have gotten down to business then, but the hurt she saw swimming in his expressive eyes, the one part of him that he couldn’t mask, at least not with her, made her speak forthrightly. From the heart. “You can have a future in Misthaven. A happy one.”

              Both of Killian’s eyebrows arched at her words, and he took a step back. He raised his hand and rubbed at his chin, then laughed, “Let me guess – with you? At your palace?”

              Emma tilted her chin and smoothed her hands down her skirts, “My father offered you a commission, Killian. You could have taken it.”

              He marched up to her then, leaning so close their noses touched. Emma, however, refused to back down, and met his gaze straight on. He raised his hook then, brandishing it angrily in her face. “Look at me, princess! Do you see this? I’m a monster!”

              He turned from her swiftly, his long leather duster swishing outwards. He hung his head, covering his face with his good hand. It was as if he were hiding from her, ashamed to let her truly see him, and it broke her heart.

              “You’re not a monster, Killian Jones,” Emma told him softly, taking a tentative step closer. She placed a hand slowly, gently to the end of his brace. Then she lifted the hook and pressed it to her breast. He shuddered, but he didn’t pull away, though he kept his face from her.

              “Surely,” he choked out, “surely you’ve heard what they call me now. Captain Hook.”

              “I have,” Emma told him gently, “I’ve heard many tales of you at port. They call you the Robin Hood of the seas, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Liberator of slave ships. Rebel fighting against King Midas. They call you Captain Hook, yes, but they say it with awe. They see you as a savior.”

              She felt him softening. Until that final word. At the sound of it, he pulled his hooked arm away from her gently and turned towards the desk. He leaned over it, fingers of his good hand splayed, his hook making an indention in the wood.

              “Why are you here, your highness?” he asked in a tired voice.

              Emma took a deep breath. “I need your help, Killian. Midas has attacked my people.”

              “I’m not surprised.” His tone was resigned. Filled with sadness.

              She stepped closer to his side. “It’s more than that. There’s this . . . mysterious poison killing soldiers at the front. My magic is powerless against it. Even Regina is at a loss.”

              He stood to his full height, finally looking her in the eye with an intense expression. “What are their symptoms?”

              “Black lines snaking out from where the arrows have pierced their skin. It runs through their veins, straight to their hearts. Even the tiniest nick proves fatal. They become fatigued, then feverish, then they convulse, and . . . “

              “Die,” Killian finished for her, running his hand wearily down his face. He pressed his eyes together in anguish for a moment, and when he opened them, his sapphire eyes were swimming with grief. “I watched what you describe happen to my brother. He died in my arms.”

              Emma knew this already, had heard it from Graham after he looked into Killian’s past, but to hear Killian confess it now, to see the grief still fresh on his face, it broke her heart in a way it didn’t before. She reached a hand out to him, but he turned from her abruptly and walked around his desk. He yanked open a drawer and pulled out some papers. Some she remembered seeing when she was snooping around his things. He tossed them across the desk to her as he sank into the chair.

              “Dreamshade,” he explained as she studied the sketch she had found in his desk before, of a strange plant. Killian propped his right elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his chin in his hand. “My brother’s first mission as a newly minted captain for King Midas was to retrieve that plant. I was Liam’s lieutenant on that voyage. We were led to believe that what we were acquiring was a medicinal plant. One that would save lives.”

              “When it’s actually a weapon.”

              “Aye,” Killian sighed. Suddenly agitated, he began to pace the cabin, his hand grasping his hook behind his back. He looked every bit the naval officer, whether he realized it or not. “After my brother’s death, I rebelled against the crown. First it was about my anger – my revenge.” Killian shook his head and paused his pacing to massage his temple. “Until I began to hear scuttlebutt in the taverns about the plant. Midas wasn’t to be deterred. He found a naval captain without any scruples to do his dirty work. It was then that my mission was clear.”

              “You began attacking military ships not out of revenge, but in hopes of confiscating the poison,” Emma supplied.

              When Killian’s eyes met hers again, a smile tugged at his lips. Her heart turned over.

              “Aye, but I had no success.”

              “Graham learned that the Dark One wanted to enact revenge because you had stolen from him.” Emma bit her lip as she searched his gaze. “Why would you do that?”

              “I heard another rumor. This time of an antidote for the poison. I don’t know why Midas would risk an allegiance with Rumplestiltskin, but the imp had developed the antidote at his request.”

              “Let me guess,” Emma asked wryly, “only Midas and the Dark One would have access to it.”

              “Precisely. I knew it was risky, but I had to try and get that antidote before others suffered the same fate as my brother.”

Killian was standing now at the bank of windows on the far side of the cabin. Emma came up close behind him, her hands clenched at her waist. She longed to smooth the lines of grief and pain that were etched upon his face. If only he would let her! If only he could see himself the way she saw him – as a hero.

“That’s no easy task,” she told him softly, “breaking into the Dark One’s castle.”

He let out a quick, morbid laugh. “Oh no, breaking in is the easy part. Getting out . . . “he shook his head, “now there’s the challenge.”

“So how did you do it?”

Killian turned from the window to face her, and he was so close, she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. “I didn’t.”

Emma swallowed hard, her breathing feeling suddenly erratic, not only due to their close proximity, but the sudden softness in his eyes. “I don’t understand.”

Killian seemed to lose his train of thought for a moment as he tucked an errant strand of hair behind Emma’s ear. He quickly shook his head as he dropped his hand to his side. “He had me in his dungeon, torturing me, and then . . . “ He trailed off, gazing over Emma’s shoulder. “Sometimes a person comes along who reminds you that there’s still goodness and compassion in this world. Her name was Belle. She came, undid my bonds, and helped me escape.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “A woman? Who was she?”

Killian shrugged. “I don’t know. She was lovely, and dressed in fine garments. Perhaps a prisoner of Rumplestiltskin? No way she could be his . . . “ Killian shuddered, “wife. At any rate, whoever, she was, I owe her my life.”

Emma shook aside the ridiculous feeling of jealousy for this Belle. “So you didn’t get the antidote.”

“Oh no,” he corrected with a smirk, “I got it.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “But how? He caught you. He had you locked up.”

“Pirate, love.” Killian grinned cockily, then reached into the inside pocket of his duster. He pulled out a shimmery magic bean and held it up between two fingers.

“What’s that?”

“This,” Killian said slowly, turning the bean and admiring it as it sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the windows, “is what will lead us to where I hid the antidote.”

Emma’s eyes lit up with hope. “Where?”

“The last place anyone would think to look. Neverland.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * So our OTP is back together again and heading to Neverland! And we all know what types of things can happen there . . . Let's just say I think you all will really like the next chapter ;)  
> * Some of you have been asking about the final installment of Journeying the Realms. I'm sorry, but I can't really say when that will happen. The muse is just not feeling it right now (which is weird for me because Daddy!Killian is normally my thing). I want to close that series out right, so please be patient with me. I'm juggling a lot right now. I know you only ask because you love it so much, and that's great, but asking sort of stresses me out and doesn't help the muse. Sorry! I'm not trying to be mean *hides behind a pillow so you won't hit me* You all are great, really!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I am so sorry that you all had to wait over a month for this chapter! Writing it was so frustrating! I actually wrote pages and then scraped it all because I absolutely hated it. What made it worse was that I had been looking forward to this chapter! What finally worked was starting in the middle and working my way backward. I know, I know, that's like creative writing 101. Don't know why I didn't think of it sooner, I guess because I had it outlined already. Anyhow, here it is!   
> * I'm a little nervous because this might not be the Neverland you were expecting. I took our characters to a part of the island that was never on the show. I hope you like it, because I sure do! Maybe you love the finished product more when the creating of it was difficult? Anyway, please let me know what you all think of this chapter! My muse really needs the feedback right now :)

              The sea cave nestled beside Mermaid Lagoon in Neverland sparkled with incandescent light. Stalagmites and stalactites were encrusted with what looked like pink and purple sea salt, and the blue green of the sea water reflected off the cave ceiling, sending shafts of light sparkling across the stone floor of the cave. Emma gazed in wonder at the beauty around her, stumbling at one point over a jagged piece of rock. Killian’s hook and arm were there to steady her before she could fall, however.

              “Careful, princess,” he warned her.

              She nodded, and they continued their way deeper into the cave. Ahead of Killian was Tiger Lily, a fairy who lived on the island. She and another pixie named Tinkerbell were friends of Killian’s and had helped him hide and protect the antidote. He had warned her, however, on the journey here, to avoid Pan and his Lost Boys. Not only did they hate pirates in general, they had a particular grudge against Killian Jones.

              “What did you do?” Emma had asked him back on the Jolly Roger.

              Killian had given her a cocky grin. “Simple. I left.”

              Emma’s eyebrows had risen. “And that’s not normally done?”

              “Not unless Pan allows it.” He had entered her personal space then, which as usual, set her heart pounding. He had inclined his head lower until his nose brushed her temple. “He may look like a boy, but I assure you, he’s a bloody demon. Stay close to me, love, the island is Pan’s sadistic game and the last thing we need is losing you to it.”

              Emma had turned her head then to meet his gaze. His eyes had softened at her look. “Worried about me, Jones?”

              He had blinked rapidly at that and taken a step back. “Nonsense. But we can’t very well lose the heir to the throne of Misthaven, now can we, lass?”

              Emma thought of that conversation now as she grasped Killian’s shoulder to help brace herself as she clambered over a large rock formation. The tenderness of his touch as he helped her navigate the caves and the warmth of his gaze when he thought no one was looking belied the cavalier words that he often spoke. He had lost much; love had only brought him pain. She could see it in every agonized expression and every sarcastic word he uttered. And it absolutely broke her heart.

              Tiger Lily came to a stop at the edge of a small body of water so smooth, it looked like colored glass. Killian came to stand beside her, gazing down into the still waters.

              “The antidote is down there,” Killian explained to Emma, gesturing with his hook into the deep pool. He kept a protective arm around her waist as she peered down. “Careful, it’s much deeper than it looks.”

              What Emma saw was a deep chasm lined on all sides with shelves of mutli-colored coral. In every nook and cranny of the jagged surface were odds and ends of all kinds. Trinkets, knickknacks, even cutlery and pipes. “What is this place?”

              “Ariel’s grotto,” Killian explained. “She’s the princess of Tritan’s people who live in Mermaid Lagoon.”

              “The same mermaids who attacked the Jolly Roger as we were approaching the island?”

              “No,” Killian told her with a shake of his head, “those mermaids are on Pan’s side. They are cannibals with teeth like razors.”

              “Aye,” Smee spoke up at Emma’s right elbow. “They’ll fillet a sailor’s flesh right off their bones, they will.”

              “But Ariel is my friend,” Killian cut in, “one who was more than willing to hide me treasures.”

              Emma grinned as she gestured towards the pool, “You have more than one prize down there?”

              Killian wiggled his eyebrows at her and winked. “Pirate, love.”

              Emma shook her head and laughed as she turned back towards the pool. “So where is she?”

              “Sadly, she became enamored of a silly prince who fell overboard and needed his sorry arse rescued from drowning,” Killian scoffed, but the fond smile on his face gave him away. He was clearly happy for his friend.

              “Got herself some legs she did,” Smee continued, “lives in a castle and everything!”

              Emma frowned and crossed her arms in frustration. “So who’s been watching your treasure? What if someone beat us to it?”

              “Mermaids have magic, too,” Tiger Lily explained. “Ariel enchanted this grotto. Only those with an innocent heart, who have never shed blood, may dive into this pool.” Tiger Lily gave Killian a pointed look. “Which rules me out, as you well know.”

Emma quickly began working the laces on her dress as she kicked off her shoes.

              “Wait! Wh-what the boody hell are you doing?” Killian cried out.

              Emma looked up into Killian’s horrified face. For the first time since they met, his eyes were trained on her cleavage, which was now on full display above the edge of her corset since her dress was now pooled at her feet. She rolled her eyes at his shock. Was this man really a pirate?

              “I can’t very well swim in all this dress, can I? I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one here who’s never shed blood.”

              “But – but . . .” he gestured vaguely with his hand as his adorable ears turned bright pink. He was the most proper pirate she had ever met, and she loved him for it. “In naught but your corset?” he finally managed to croak, and Emma could suddenly easily imagine him as an idealistic naval lieutenant.

              “Actually, no,” she told him casually as she worked her stays with nimble fingers, “I’m taking that off, too.”

              Tiger Lily chuckled behind her and Killian threw a glare the fairy’s way. Emma tossed the corset behind her, inadvertently smacking Smee right in the chest with it. The man grasped hold of it for only a moment, quickly dropping it like a hot coal at Killian’s murderous stare.

              “I meant no disrespect, Captain,” Smee quickly stuttered, which elicited a clenched jaw from Killian and more chuckles from Tiger Lily.

              “You’ll need this,” Tiger Lily spoke up after clearing her throat. She stepped up to Emma and put a sea star in her hand. “Put this over your nose and mouth when you go under, and you’ll be able to breathe.” The fairy then draped a length of sea grass around Emma’s neck. Dangling from it was a small shell. “This will glow when you’re near the antidote,” she explained.

              Emma nodded nervously as the sea star tickled her hand. She looked down and tried not to wrinkle her nose as she watched its tentacles flex and stretch. She didn’t like the thought of putting the thing on her face, but if that was the worst that she had to endure, she would gladly do it. The armies of Misthaven were facing far worse on the battlefield, and every moment she hesitated was one more moment that lives were being lost. Resolute, Emma took a step towards the edge of the grotto. Killian’s hand, warm on her arm stopped her. She turned to see his deep blue eyes boring into her.

              “Be careful,” he told her, voice thick. He was worried about her! A smile flirted with the edge of her mouth, and she felt a sparkle light her eyes.

              “You don’t have to worry about me, pirate,” she told him, “I’m a survivor.”

              Emma didn’t wait for a response, but turned from him quickly and dove into the water. She opened her eyes, and once they adjusted to the sting of salt and the murky light, she applied the star fish as Tiger Lily had instructed. The creatures feelers suctioning to her face was just as disconcerting as she had imagined, but when she suddenly found herself breathing easily, she was glad for the magic of the mermaids. She kicked her legs as she dove deeper, her arms cutting through the water. She glanced from the walls of coral to the shell around her neck and back again, but so far the pendant wasn’t glowing. Ariel’s collection was an even more random assortment than it had seemed from up above. There were a few treasures: jewel-encrusted music boxes that had long ago lost their ability to play a tune yet still were of obvious value, rings and bracelets of diamonds and pearl, and vases made of the rarest jade from Abrabah. Yet most of it was, quite frankly, junk. A fork with a bent tine, cracked mirrors, a picture frame with a coat of algae and encrusted with barnacles. Emma was glad for the enchanted necklace. It would take her forever to search this trove.

              Still Emma searched the shelves for anything that looked like it might contain the antidote. She noticed an ornate vial made of amber glass. For some reason, it drew Emma, so she swam closer. As she did so, the seashell around her neck glowed a bright pink. It rose up in the water, tugging slightly on the seagrass around her neck, pulling her in the direction of the vial. Emma reached out as she gave one good kick, and her hand closed around it. Clutching the precious bottle in her fist, she pushed upward towards the grotto’s opening. She gently pulled the sea star from her face as she rose higher, breathing deeply of the sweet oxygen when she finally broke the surface. Hands reached out to help her up. Killian grinned in both relief and pride as she handed him the vial.

              “You’re amazing love,” he told her as a grin split his face, “bloody brilliant.”

              Emma felt a blush rise to her cheeks at his praise. She pushed wet hair out of her eyes as she met his gaze, wishing she didn’t currently look like a drowned rat. But Killian didn’t seem to mind her wet state in the least. On the contrary, his gaze was probably the most heated she had ever received from him, and his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. She glanced down at her wet shift, which clung to her body, leaving very little to the imagination. Heat burned through her at the realization, yet it wasn’t one of shame or embarrassment. She _liked_ the hungry look in his eyes.

              But Kilian wasn’t the only man around. Emma’s eyes shifted to Killian’s left, drawn there by a flash of red. Killian noticed the direction of her gaze and turned to find Smee standing transfixed at the sight of the scantily dressed princess, his eyes wide as he twisted his woolen cap in his hands.

              “Are you daft, mate?” Killian shouted at him. “Get the lady the cloak we brought along.”

              “Y-yes, sir,” Smee stuttered as he returned his cap to his head.

The man turned nervously back towards the row boat, stumbling as he looked over his shoulder for one last glance at Emma. When he brought back the cloak, Killian snatched it from his hands, a growl coming from low in his throat. Emma tried not to laugh as Killian turned and draped the cloak around her. She clutched it tight to her chest, as the cold began to seep into her wet skin. Killian smiled tenderly, then reached up to brush away a wet strand of hair that was clinging to her cheek. Both made her heart pound violently in her chest, but the soft look was gone almost as quickly as it had come. Killian turned from her to tower menacingly over his first mate.

“Smee, what did I tell the crew where Emma was concerned?”

The man glanced nervously back at Emma before answering. “Not to so much as look at the princess or you’d bury your hook in our throats.” Smee’s eyes were drawn back to Emma as if he couldn’t help himself. Emma couldn’t help smiling at him – he had been nothing but kind, despite his bumbling nature. Killian, however, didn’t like the direction of the man’s gaze.

“You’re looking,” he growled, lifting his hook and resting its point against Smee’s neck.

Killian’s first mate swallowed as he glanced down at the steel tip in fear. “Y-yes sir. I mean – I’m sorry, sir! Won’t happen again, sir!”

Killian leaned even closer, twisting the tip of his hook the tiniest fraction. “It better not. Now go row around the side of the cave. Be sure there’s no sign of Lost Boys.”

Smee stumbled backwards, his hat a twisted mess in his hands again. Somehow, he managed to obey his Captain’s orders without further mishap. Killian turned from his first mate with a weary sigh.

Emma laughed lightly. “Please, Killian, calm down. He’s just a man. He meant nothing by it.”

Killian’s face was both intense and sincere as he regarded her. “That may be so, but you _are_ the crown princess.”

Emma, emboldened by the look she had seen in his eyes earlier, sauntered closer to him, a smirk upon her face. “You were looking. _Captain_.”

She didn’t stop until they were mere inches apart. Close enough that she had to tilt her face a bit to look into his eyes. They searched her face, the attraction clear in the darkening blue of his irises and the widening of his pupils.

“Don’t tempt me, princess. I’m a pirate, remember?”

There was little threat behind his words, his voice strained and almost pleading. Emma smiled a teasing smile as she let the cloak slip from her shoulders and fall to the ground. Killian’s eyes widened a fraction as his gaze lowered.

“You’re looking,” Emma accused.

Killian lifted his gaze back to her face, his eyelashes fluttering. She was surprised to see shame upon his face. “My apologies, your highness.”

“I don’t want your apologies,” she teased, cocking her head to the side saucily. “As a matter of fact, I just dove down there to retrieve _your_ treasure.” She pouted flirtatiously. “I could have drowned, you know.”

Killian’s own lips quirked up at her audacious coquetry. “Aye, I suppose that’s true. I thank you, princess, truly.”

Emma inched closer, running her fingertips lightly along his left arm. “I think I deserve some gratitude, don’t you think?”

Killian’s smile widened a fraction. “Aye, that’s what the thank you was for.”

Emma dipped her chin and batted her lashes coyly up at him. Then she lifted a finger and lightly tapped her lower lip. “Is that all the antidote is worth to you?”

Killian’s eyes widened in understanding. He swayed towards her, close enough that the leather of his duster brushed against one of her breasts. Since it was covered in only thin cotton that was currently plastered to her skin, the light touch sent a shiver down her spine. He dipped his head to whisper in her ear, his breath hot and warm against her chilled, wet skin.

“Please, princess. You couldn’t handle it.”

Emma turned her face towards him. They were literally mere centimeters apart. Her chest was flush against his now, the rise and fall of her rapid breathing only intensifying the contact. When she spoke, she was practically speaking against his lips. “Perhaps _you’re_ the one who couldn’t handle it.”

He pounced so quickly, that Emma’s eyes flew open wide for a moment and she let out a muffled squeal. His left arm encircled her, pulling her tight against him with his hook at the small of her back. His right hand grasped the back of her head, his fingers entangling in her hair. His lips were hungry and insistent, and when she registered that yes, this was really happening, she angled her head and parted her lips for him. He drank deeply of her then, turning every muscle in her body to hot liquid. Emma had been kissed by suitors before, but they had never moved her. Those kisses were always staidly given with stiff lips. But this! This was soft lips and heated breaths and wild passion. When he finally broke away from her, she couldn’t help the whimper that rose at the back of her throat as she chased his lips for more.

“That was –“ she began as she brushed her nose with his.

“A one time thing,” he finished for her, as he backed quickly away. He turned away from her abruptly, and she shuddered at the sudden cold, wrapping her arms around her chest. “That was out of line princess. It won’t happen again. Tiger Lily went for her things. She’s coming with us. Wait here for her while I go check on the row boat.”

“As you wish,” Emma whispered as she gathered the cloak from the ground where she had dropped it. A tear slipped down her face as she pulled the cloak tight around her. Yet, determination rose anew in her breast.

Killian Jones was in love with her; that was plain. All she had to do was be patient. No mistake, she would win his heart in the end.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry you had to wait almost a month again. The zip drive that this story's outline is saved on has bit the dust. I'm sort of in panic mode because a lot of important stuff is on there. Some of it I saved to the cloud, but there's a lot that I didn't. Ugh, I have a love-hate relationship with technology! I hope I can pull the outline off the drive somehow because this is the only chapter I could remember. I had so much great stuff planned and now - I'm sort of lost. However, I really like how chapter seven turned out, and I hope you do too!

              Killian kept his distance from Emma upon their return to the Jolly Roger, avoiding eye contact and speaking to her only when necessary and then only in monosyllables. They had barely hoisted anchor when he shouted directions to his men and then cloistered himself in the captain’s quarters. Tiger Lily caught Emma’s eye with a questioning look, which Emma was unsure how to answer. But the fairy must have picked up on something, for when Emma went below to refill her canteen of water from the stores, she heard Tiger Lily’s voice coming from Killian’s chambers. Emma couldn’t help herself, part out of curiosity and – she would readily admit – part out of jealousy, she crept down the corridor that lead from the galley so she could hear the pair’s conversation.

              “Okay, pirate, cut the bull crap. What exactly is going on with you and the princess?”

              Emma could hear Killian’s loud sigh and could imagine his ring-covered fingers massaging his forehead. “I told you already. Nothing.”

              “Mhm, okay. So that up there? That tension? That was nothing?”

              Killian mumbled something in response that Emma couldn’t catch. Apparently, neither could Tiger Lily.

              “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear.”

              “I said, I kissed her!” Killian hissed, this time with more of a stage whisper.

              “Who?”

              “Who do you think?” he asked in an incredulous voice, and Emma had to clasp a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. “Emma. I kissed Emma.”

              “Why?” Tiger Lily asked, and if Emma wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of teasing to the question.

              “Why the bloody hell does any man kiss a woman? She had gotten the vial, and she looked bloody gorgeous, and . . . “ Emma inwardly exulted at his garbled words and the sounds of his boots stomping back and forth behind the chamber door, “I don’t know, I was feeling good, and it’s been awhile . . . “

              Tiger Lily’s responding laugh was boisterously loud. “Please, Hook, you make it sound like you tripped and your lips accidentally crashed together. You can’t possibly tell me it didn’t mean anything –“

              Whatever Killian’s response would have been to that, Emma never knew, because in that moment something struck the side of the ship with such incredible force, that it sent Emma flying into the door. She crashed through and into Killian’s quarters so suddenly that Tiger Lily screamed and Killian cried out, “Bloody hell, woman!”

              The canteen of water Emma had just filled spilled all over her skirts and the floor. She brushed her hair, still wild and slightly damp from her dive into Ariel’s grotto, off her face and looked up sheepishly at Killian. She rose to her knees, trying to look nonchalant despite the deep shade of red that she felt burning her cheeks. Killian gallantly offered her his hand, not commenting on her obvious eavesdropping.

              Just as he pulled her to her feet, the ship rocked and shuddered again, sending Emma colliding with Killian’s chest. He grasped her arm to steady her with his hand and rested his hook against her hip. She looked up into his face, suddenly mesmerized by his eyes and the memory of their kiss. Subconsciously, the fingers of her hand stroked his chest hair. The spell was broken, however, when the ship was struck yet again.

              “Are we being attacked?” Tiger Lily asked as all three of them raced up the ladder.

              “No,” Killian spat as he raced to the ship’s railing, “mermaids.”

              Emma leaned over and was shocked at what she saw in the water; dozens of mermaids striking the ship again and again with their shimmery tails. Their screeching was so loud and so high-pitched, it felt Emma’s eardrums might split with the sound. Emma leaned forward a bit farther as a mermaid swam upward with her face to the sky. When the creature’s face broke the water it hissed at Emma with fang-like teeth. She felt herself pitching forward, until a strong arm circled her waist and pulled her back.

              When Killian spoke, he didn’t let her go, “They can pull you overboard with a spell,” he explained as he swung her around to put distance between her and the railing.

              “I suppose these aren’t Ariel’s people,” she replied breathlessly. His arm still encircled her waist.

              “No,” he muttered hastily as he realized that he had pressed her closer against himself. He released her as he nervously cleared his throat. “Stay back, Princess. Let me and my crew handle this.”

              Emma narrowed her eyes and scowled openly as he strode away from her. She was almost sprawled to the deck as the ship rocked again. Tiger Lily was preparing a canon as Smee prepared another. Several more men were aiming harpoons as they leaned over the waters, their arms secured in the rigging. Emma looked around for something, anything, to help. She couldn’t just stand idly by like some damsel in distress. A grin filled her face when she spied a fishing net. She grabbed it and raced back to the railing. She worried her lower lip as she leaned over to look down at the water. The net was made of fairly heavy rope, and she worried she wouldn’t be able to throw it far enough out. If she could only get a little higher . . .

              Emma scrambled up onto the railing with the net slung across her back, pulling herself up by grasping on to the rigging. She heard Killian shouting behind her, asking her what the bloody hell she thought she was doing, but Emma ignored him. With one hand secured in the rigging, she tossed out the net with the other. She cheered inwardly as a mermaid became entangled in the net, but she then quickly frowned when she realized that she couldn’t pull the net in with one hand. She let go of the rigging so she could pull with both hands . . .

              Suddenly, the ship rocked violently. With nothing to hold onto, Emma suddenly found herself flying through the air. She heard Killian’s shout just as she hit the water. Emma reacted immediately, kicking upward, but no sooner had her face cleared the water then she was yanked under again by what felt like half a dozen scratching, angry hands. Emma fought against the mermaids who held her, opening her eyes to look through the murky water. Through the dullness of the water, she heard a wooshing sound, then saw a dark figure slicing through the water towards her. Killian!

              Between the two of them, they fought the mermaids off. Emma felt herself fading, and Killian pulled her to the surface. She took several gasping breaths only to be yanked under again and out of Killian’s grip. She heard him shout her name in the distant, foggy way one hears underwater. The mermaids surrounded her again, but this time they flung the net she had used on one of their kin over her head. Emma twisted and fought, but the weights on the end of the net were dragging her quickly under. She looked up to see Killian’s form slicing through the water towards her, illuminated from behind by the afternoon sun. She gasped in water as her lungs demanded air, and spots danced before her eyes. She thought she saw a flash of red, and then all went dark.

                            *******************************************************

              _Emma, come back to me . . ._

Emma felt that surely she had died because she could feel Killian’s lips on her hers. His distinctive scent, more salty than usual, filled her nostrils. There were his lips again, and a wet strand of his hair brushed her cheek.

              _Come back to me, Emma, please . . ._

But then the bright sun was harsh behind her eyelids, and a cough rent her lungs. She rolled to the side, spitting out sea water and gasping for breath. She rolled back over to find Killian hovering over her, the sun haloed around his face. A relieved grin caused crinkles to form at the corners of his eyes, and her fuzzy brain registered that it was a smile she had never seen on his face before. And then he was grabbing her and holding her close, and only then did she realize that they were both sopping wet.

              Emma looked over Killian’s shoulder as he held her to find his crew circled around them, relieved smiles on everyone’s faces. “What,” Emma croaked, her throat scratchy from all the sea water she had swallowed, “what happened?”

              Killian pulled back and cupped her cheek, brushing wet strands from her face. “The mermaids were drowning you. I tried to stop them, but they kept pushing me back. Thank the gods Ariel and the rest of her kin showed up.”

              Emma remembered the flash of red – had it been hair? “Is Ariel a redhead?” she asked.

              Killian laughed as he helped her to her feet. Emma swayed, her head pounding, and Killian scooped her up into his arms. “Aye, love, she does. And I’ve never been so relieved to see that bright head of hers in my entire life.”

              Emma sagged in his arms, looping her own around his neck. If it took her almost drowning for him to let his guard down like this, then maybe she should fall in the ocean more often. He carefully descended the stairs to his quarters, and Emma marveled at the ease with which he carried her. She barely noticed his hook. He set her gently on a chair as he pulled a large, ornate blanket from a chest in the corner. He shook it out and laid it upon the bed, then he lifted Emma onto it and wrapped her up in it. He rubbed her arms up and down as he attempted to dry her off. Emma’s teeth chattered.

              “I’ve n-never seen a b-blanket like this.”

              “Twas a gift from Princess Jasmine of Agrabah.”

              “Do you charm women everywhere you go?” Emma asked him, hoping he could hear the note of teasing in her voice.

              He ducked his head in that rare bashful way of his, and scratched behind his ear. “Well, Jasmine was simply grateful for my assistance in reuniting her with Alladin – her true love.”

              Killian’s eyes met hers, and her insides melted. She blushed slightly, frustrated with herself for her constant bouts of jealousy. Part of it was that she could see how easily a woman _could_ fall in love with him, and was thus surprised that more hadn’t. Killian leaned forward and brushed a kiss to her temple.

              “Dry off and then look for some warm clothes in my things,” he told her, “you’re welcome to whatever you find, even breeches.”

              All Emma could do was choke out a _thank you_ as Killian ascended the ladder. Despite the salty water clinging to her clothes, she fell upon the bed, wrapped up in the rich blanket. She rested her head upon Killian’s pillow, breathing deeply of his scent that it held.

              His words floated back to her. _Emma, come back to me._ She was fairly certain he had whispered them in her ear when she was unconscious. He likely had no idea that she had heard them.

              “I’m right here, Killian,” she mumbled as sleep quickly claimed her, “whenever you’re ready, I’m right here.”

             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Is anyone still watching the show? I am, and for the first time ever, I loved Rumbelle last night. Did anyone else think of the movie Up while watching them in that cabin? I did - even the music sounded like Up. Of course I miss CS, but fan fiction has been a great way to get my fix :)  
> * Coming up . . . . I'm not sure what I originally had planned, but since Emma's dress is now soaked, and Killian said she could wear breeches if she found any . . . maybe it's time for a sword fighting lesson? Stay tuned . . .


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it has been a long wait, and this is a short chapter. However, I think you're going to like this one ;) I wasn't originally planning on this dialogue even being in this fic, but I'm delighted that the muse took me there.

              Emma hadn’t meant to fall asleep, especially considering that she was wet and her hair was encrusted with sea salt. Yet the events of the day had been so physically and emotionally demanding, that she hadn’t been able to fight the pull of slumber. When she awakened she saw the light of early dawn shining through the window. She opened her eyes with a great deal of difficulty, encrusted as they were with dried sea spray. Emma’s dress was also stiff with salt water, and the only other gown she had brought with her looked – and smelled – like it had been worn many times. So she took Killian up on his offer and began rummaging through the trunk he had gestured to the day before.

              As Emma sorted through the women’s clothing, she wondered if they had all belonged to Milah. One seemed like the simple dress of a farmer’s wife, but others were of richer material. Plunder from a raided ship perhaps? Maybe as a gift for his Milah? Emma pushed those questions aside as she finally settled on a pair of leather women’s breeches in a deep blue color. She also found a billowy blouse and a matching vest. She had to tie the laces on the vest as tight as possible and draw the strings of the shirt’s neckline to the very end. Emma remembered that Milah had been endowed with more seductive curves than she was. Of course, the woman also had a few years on Emma’s mere 18. Emma’s lack in that area bothered her more than she cared to admit, yet she squared her shoulders as she exited the cabin.

              She squinted against the bright light of the sun after being in the relative darkness of Killian’s quarters. Her hair blew in her face, and she reached up to run her fingers through it only to find that it too was encrusted with dried sea water. A bit of bedraggled blue ribbon that once held back a crown of braids slapped against Emma’s cheek. She pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail, tying it back with the tattered ribbon. She sighed in resignation, knowing it was the best she could do under the circumstances.

              Emma found Killian on the quarter-deck, standing regally at the railing. Smee was at the wheel behind him. She just stood there taking him in for a moment as he gazed out at the water, his back rigid, his posture commanding, his stance spread wide and strong. No wonder he could command a crew so well at such a young age. Killian, seeming to sense her presence, turned. She was delighted to see the pleasure in his eyes and the smile on his face when he saw her.

              “Princess, it’s a pleasure to see you up so early this morning. I confess I was a bit concerned when you slept so long and deeply.”

              He ducked his head after that, giving that spot behind his ear a scratch. He seemed bashful all of a sudden around her, and she found it incredibly endearing.

              “Sorry about that,” she told him with a frown. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I didn’t even change out of my wet clothes, I was so exhausted.”

              Killian’s face altered instantly to a frown and furrowed brow. “That won’t do. You’ll catch your death of cold.”

              Emma smiled tenderly at his concern. “I feel perfectly fine. I promise.”

              Killian smiled shyly again, a dimple forming in his cheeks. Then he cleared his throat, tilted his chin, and transformed once again to pirate captain. “Good. Because we need to prepare you for what we’re sailing into.”

              He turned to a pile of sandbags nearby and picked up a cutlass in its scabbard with a leather belt attached. He seemed to weigh it in the palm of his hand as he gave her a long, flirtatious look beneath his long lashes.

              “Ready for a lesson, princess?”

              “Please,” Emma scoffed with a roll of her eyes, “I’ve had lessons from my father.”

              “Oh really,” Killian teased back with an arch of his brow, “is that so?”

              “Well,” Emma hedged, “not _lately._ I’ve been focusing on my magic.”

              Killian came around behind her and leaned towards her neck, his breath ghosting across her skin as he spoke. “I assure you, your highness, that lessons from a pirate are quite different.”

              Emma swallowed hard as he reached his arms around her to fasten the belt. As if she couldn’t do it herself. Of course, neither did she attempt to stop him.

              “And how old were you when you had your last lesson?” he asked, simultaneously pulling the belt tight with his hook.

              Emma bit back her gasp, yet her voice still came out breathy and high-pitched when she answered, “16.”

              Killian took her hand in his and guided it to the hilt of her sword. He didn’t let go as he helped her pull the blade from the scabbard. “Well,” he told her, almost casually as he guided her arm in some slices through the air, “it will come back to you. That’s what we call –“ he paused and turned his face towards her as he re-sheathed the sword “-muscle memory.”

              Emma had turned towards him as he spoke, and now their noses were practically touching. A tiny shift by either of them, and their lips would touch. Killian’s eyes boldly searched her face, and he had the audacity to smirk at her. Well, that just wouldn’t do. With a smirk of her own, she elbowed him firmly in the gut, then spun out of his embrace.

              “I see what you mean,” she quipped, the sword held out towards his throat.

              Killian grinned widely at her as he straightened, “That’s a feisty lass.” He smoothly unsheathed the sword at his hip and took his stance. “Ready?”

              Emma merely nodded as she took a step forwards, slashing at the air with her blade. Killian parried the blow easily, and soon Emma’s “muscle memory” was aching as he took her through a lesson far different from any her father had ever given her. Prince Charming fought with a broadsword, not a cutlass, for one. And, her father fought like a gentleman.

              “See,” Killian instructed as he pinned her against the railing, “villains don’t care about good form. They’ll fight dirty, so you have to be prepared to match them stroke for stroke.”

              Killian also fought with a certain amount of flair. He spun artfully, almost as if the fight were a well-choreographed dance. Emma teased him at first that he was just showing off, but then he put her through the same moves, demonstrating their effectiveness in a fight. He also used everything around him, from ropes to barrels, even a loose board on the quarter deck. He taught her to be aware of her surroundings and use them to her advantage.

              Emma lost track of time as the lesson continued. Her muscles were aching, and they were both breathing hard and sweating. Members of his crew gathered from time to time, yet Killian always barked at them to be about their business.

              Emma’s muscles were protesting, and she felt her guard begin to lower. In a desperate move to regain the upper hand, she shoved Killian backwards with a short burst of her magic.

              “Now that’s just bloody unfair,” Killian muttered as he struggled to his feet. Yet he soon had the smirk disappearing from Emma’s face as he swiped at her feet with his leg and Emma went tumbling backwards onto the pile of sandbags nearby.

              Exhausted, Emma stayed where she was, flinging her arms outward and letting her cutlass clatter to the deck. “Okay,” she gasped, “I beg for quarter.”

              Killian sheathed his own cutlass, chuckling as well as he reached out a hand to help her up. The look of shock on his face when she took advantage of his gentlemanly gesture sent a peal of laughter tumbling from her lips. The second she grasped his hand, she yanked him forward and spun away. Since he was already bending forward, he toppled easily, landing on his side with a loud thump. Before he could react, Emma yanked him by both wrists and pinned him down on his back.

              “You know,” she quipped saucily as she straddled him, “I thought we would be doing more enjoyable activities when I got you on your back. _Captain_.”

              Killian’s grin and the sparkle in his eyes clearly showed that he didn’t mind his current predicament all that much. “Oh really? You thought _I_ would be the one on my back first?”

              Emma let out a yelp as he grasped her by the waist and flipped their positions. She should have known better than to let his smile beguile her. Instead of straddling her, he knelt on the deck and leaned over her.

              “When I jab you with my sword,” he whispered huskily in her ear, “you’ll feel it.”

              Her eyes grew wide in shock that he would have the audacity to say such a thing. But when she looked into his eyes, she saw a spark of humor there. Besides, she had kind of walked right into it with her own innuendos.

              “Ahem.”

              Killian scrambled off the sandbags at the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat. Luckily, it was Tiger Lily, not Graham who stood there regarding them with unveiled humor upon her face.

              “What exactly is going on here?” she asked, barely suppressing her laughter.

              “Uh,” Killian stuttered, turning a brighter shade of red than Emma would have ever thought possible, “I was giving her a sword-fighting lesson.”

              “Uh-huh, okay.”

              That was all Tiger Lily said. Then she arched a brow, turned, and walked away. A small group of Killian’s crew had also wandered over to the see the show, but they all hurried off after Killian leveled a death glare at each of them. He turned and reached a hand out to Emma, who now sat demurely atop the sandbags. She should have been mortified with embarrassment, but surprisingly, she wasn’t. Instead, she couldn’t stop giving Killian a teasing glance and smile as he helped her up.

              “Um, I apologize, my lady,” he stuttered. “I forgot who I was sparing with.”

              “No you didn’t,” Emma said boldly, stepping close.

              Killian turned a startled look her way. Once he saw the look in her eyes, his gaze softened as he relaxed his tense jaw. Emma rested a hand gently at his elbow.

              “You’ve come to see me not as a princess, but just as me – Emma.” She smiled up at him. “I can’t tell you what that means to me.”

              He bent towards her, their noses brushing as his eyes fluttered closed. “There’s so much going on. One crisis after another –“

              “There’s always a crisis,” she replied in almost a whisper, “you might want to start living your life in the midst of them, or you might miss it.”

              Killian brushed her lips with the lightest of kisses. “Be patient with me, princess.” Then, as if he had revealed too much, he hurried to the main deck, snapping orders at his crew as he went.

              Emma sighed and quipped under her breath, “Sure, I’ve got all the time in the world. Until a monster comes along and kills me.”

              She turned to the railing and gripped it tightly in both hands. The man was infuriating. Baffling. Maddening.

              And she adored him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * This story is drawing to a close. There will be one more chapter, maybe two, plus a short epilogue. I am really looking forward to where this is ending up - it includes something that I always wished would have happened on the show but didn't. (And it's probably not what you're thinking, ha ha!)  
> * If you enjoyed this little chapter, let me know in the kudos and comments! Ya'll have been the best!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Here it is ya'll, the next - and final - chapter! If you notice, I have a number now for how many chapters this thing is - 10. That 10th chapter is actually an epilogue, and guess what? It's already written. As soon as I post this, I'll go ahead and post that. So, happy New Year!  
> * A warning that Rumbelle shippers may not like this chapter. My personal feelings on that ship aside, the Rumpled in this has no son. He is just a full out villain wanting nothing but power. So . . . don't hate me!

              Emma swore her own heartbeat was as loud as a drum as they made their way through the forest. Killian’s crew, Tiger Lily, and Graham were all obviously experienced and highly skilled at slipping in and out of places unseen, and Emma felt green compared to them. She seemed to step on every twig and dry leaf in the forest, and every time the resulting snap seemed to echo like the stomping of a giant through the canopy of leaves above them. Yet they were all being incredibly gracious with her. She had a feeling it was only because she was the princess. Which wouldn’t matter if she got them all killed.

              Graham, who was leading the way, suddenly dropped to his knees and raised one hand. The rest of them all followed suit. If Emma’s heart was a drumbeat before, it was now as loud as the gongs of the village church bell. How everyone in a five mile radius couldn’t hear it was a miracle.

              Emma heard absolutely nothing in the silence of the forest, but Tiger Lily evidently did. She rose swiftly and silently, an arrow already notched in her bow. But before the fairy could shoot, an arrow whizzed past her, causing one of her braids to whip around her shoulders.

              “That was a warning shot,” a male accented voice called out. Emma scanned the foliage, but her untrained eyes could see no one. “Who are you and what is your business here?”

              Emma couldn’t see who had shot the arrow, but her magic still sensed a familiar presence. She stood up, revealing herself despite the frantic protests from Killian and Graham. “Regina? It’s me!”

              The former queen suddenly stood in a small clearing, almost as if she were stepping through a hazy mirror. A cloaking spell. The brunette grinned as she moved quickly towards Emma and embraced her.

              “We were all so worried,” Regina said as she held Emma tight.

              Emma pulled back, smiling too. Regina was more practically dressed than usual, in black leather pants and a deep purple vest. A coat of red velvet that hugged her every curve topped the ensemble and a black hat with purple and red plumes rested atop her head. For Regina, it was a casual look.

              A rugged looking man in a forest green cape stepped from the tree line, putting an unused arrow back into the quiver at his back.

              “So this is Princess Emma,” he said as he stepped forward, a wry grin upon his face, “I would have thought the daughter of Snow White wouldn’t tromp as loud as an ogre through the woods.”

              “Robin!” Regina scolded, but it held little heat and her eyes sparkled with delight as she cocked her head at the man.

              “Robin Hood?” Emma asked, slightly embarrassed at the childlike delight in her voice. “The famous bandit who stole from the rich and gave to the poor?”

              “The very one,” he responded, giving Emma his hand to shake, “my face graced wanted posters alongside your mother in days gone by.”

              “That was a long time ago,” Regina protested, a tinge of regret in the words. She stepped closer and slipped her hand in the crook of Robin’s arm.

              Emma’s gaze flitted between the two. She had never heard that lilt in Regina’s voice before. The former queen and the former bandit were also clearly making eyes at each other. A slow smile filled Emma’s face.

              “I see a lot has happened since I’ve been gone.”

              Regina ducked her head and blushed while Robin chuckled. From the woods behind Emma came Graham, Tiger Lily, and their band of pirates. Killian came to Emma’s side, his hand twitching and his arm falling awkwardly near her. It was as if he wanted to take her hand or slip his arm about her waist but wasn’t sure if he should. Emma bit back a sigh at his hesitance, yet at least found comfort in how closely he drew to her side.

              “I apologize for the delay,” Killian explained in his authoritative Captain’s voice, “but I thought it wise to take a circuitous route. I couldn’t risk the antidote . . . or the princess.”

              “And I agreed,” Graham added, and Emma suppressed an eye roll. If the two men had been one hundred percent honest they would have admitted it had been her safety, more than the antidote, that they had been thinking of. Emma had argued with them both about it as they sailed home, wanting to make haste instead. At least their overprotectiveness had bonded the two men. Graham was half on his way to being Killian’s first mate. Emma sometimes wondered if she should be jealous.

              “Well that antidote is needed at the front. Now.” Robin told them. “People are dying.”

              Killian pulled the tiny vial from his vest pocket and held it out to Regina. “Can you make more from this, witch?”

              Regina’s eyes flashed as she snatched the vial from Killian’s hand. “It’s _your majesty_ , Captain Guyliner.”

              Killian arched a brow and tucked his tongue into his cheek. “Bit hard to reign without a kingdom, _Evil Queen_.”

              “I was still married to a King, you ignorant one-handed wonder.”

              Robin met Emma’s eye. “Do you think they’re long lost siblings perhaps?” he chuckled.

              “They sure bicker like it,” Emma quipped as she laughed as well.

              Regina just rolled her eyes while Killian glared at her. Emma shook her head. Maybe it was some former villain thing. Like they were trying to one-up each other or something.

              Robin gestured towards the foliage where he and Regina had been keeping watch. “Come, darling, let’s get you to your potions and spells and make more of that antidote.”

                            *********************************************************

              With Emma’s help, making multiple doses of the antidote hadn’t been hard for Regina. Doses were taken as quickly as possible to the medical tents where the wounded were being tended. Then the entire army had been gathered to be inoculated against the effects of dreamshade with a vaccine Regina had developed from the antidote. Now that the poison was useless, the tide of the war would hopefully turn.

              Emma ducked into the strategy tent where her parents, Graham, Regina, and Robin all stood around a map discussing the next move for the troops. Another couple Emma didn’t recognize stood in the far corner.

              “Emma,” David said as he lifted his head, “I want to introduce you to someone.”

He turned towards the couple a few feet away. The woman was blonde and willowy. She held her head up with an elongated neck and a tilted chin. It came across haughty, but Emma knew better than to judge at first appearances. Some thought the same of her best friend Elsa, and that was far from true. The man standing next to the woman was extremely tall with light brown hair. He stood with his arm lightly around the woman’s waist.

“This is Princess Abigail and Prince Frederick. They’re the ones who brought fresh troops to assist us,” David explained.

Beside him, Robin chuckled, “I don’t know that I would call my merry men _troops_.”

“Nonsense, Robin,” Abigail protested, a kind smile filling her face. Emma had been right. She wasn’t really haughty at all. Just reserved. And cautious. “If not for your men, the entire realm would be at my father’s mercy. You all fight with courage and integrity.”

“Your father?” Emma couldn’t help gasping out.

Abigail lowered her head, almost in shame. Her husband squeezed her arm tightly in encouragement. “Yes, I am Midas’s daughter. My father was once kind. A benevolent ruler and a tender father. But our kingdom was suffering financially and my father foolishly asked for the golden touch from the Dark One.”

“And the Dark One’s help always comes with a price,” Emma finished for her sadly.

Abigail nodded, tears glimmering unshed in her eyes. “My father didn’t consider that. He could no longer touch any living person, not even me. As time went on, the lack of human contact combined with the lust for more and more gold warped his mind and twisted his heart. The man who so cruelly is grabbing up every kingdom around him is not my father.”

“Abigail and Frederick helped us defeat King George,” Emma’s mother spoke up, “we are now going to help them take back _their_ kingdom.”

Emma’s eyes widened as everything fell into place. This was the Abigail that her father was betrothed to when he met her mother. Frederick was the knight who had been turned to a statue of solid gold, and Emma’s father had helped Abigail free him. Emma thought for a moment.

“Where have you been all these years?” she asked Abigail.

“Well,” Abigail chuckled, “we have your pirate friend to thank for that. We had to flee from my father when I broke my betrothal with David, and Captain Killian Jones gave us passage on the Jolly Roger. He took us to Sherwood Forest where we met up with Robin and his band.”

“And now we’ve brought them home in order to put a righteous ruler on the throne,” Robin spoke up with conviction.

“Wait,” Emma interrupted, her eyes scanning the tent, “where _is_ Killian?”

David straightened suddenly from where he was leaning over the map and exchanged a glance with his wife. Snow’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“You mean he didn’t tell you goodbye?”

Emma’s heart plummeted at her mother’s question. “What do you mean?”

“Killian accepted a mission,” David clarified, “we needed to get that antidote to our navy. He and his crew set out half an hour ago for their ship.”

Emma gasped, and without further conversation, she lifted her skirts and ran from the tent. Tears burned her cheeks as she ran, but she didn’t even bother to dash them away. She found her horse Buttercup, swung herself into the saddle, and galloped off for the cove where the Jolly Roger was moored.

              ***********************************************

Killian was just about to push off in the last rowboat for the Jolly Roger when Emma galloped onto the small beach. She practically jumped from the saddle before even reigning Buttercup in, and Killian stood quickly, his face a mixture of shock and indignation.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he demanded as he marched towards her. “Jumping from your horse like that? You could have broken your neck.”

When he was close enough, Emma didn’t even hesitate before lifting her hand and slapping him as hard as she could across the face. “And what the bloody hell are _you_ doing?” she spat. “Leaving without even telling me goodbye?”

His head had whipped sideways at the force of her slap, and he kept his gaze away from her as he rubbed his cheek. The anger welling up in Emma hadn’t abated.

“I know my father gave you a mission, and I’m proud of you for taking it. But you could have said goodbye. Could have talked to me. And don’t pretend there’s nothing between us.” Her chest heaved with the force of her rage. It felt so cathartic to finally just yell at him. She shoved his shoulders with both hands, “Is this still about not trusting me?”

He turned to her then and snapped back at her. “Of _course_ I trust you!”

“Then why do you keep pushing me away?”

“Because everyone I’ve ever loved is gone!”

He was right in her face when he shouted those final words, and they dropped to the ground like heavy rocks. Both of their chests were heaving, and Killian’s face was broken when he spoke again in a hoarse whisper. “My parents. My brother. Even Milah. I can’t lose you too.”

              The anger seeped out of Emma, and she stood there, shocked into silence. She had no idea what to say to soothe his fears, so she simply acted instead. With absolutely no preamble, she lunged forward and kissed him. Unlike in Neverland, Killian didn’t hesitate. He kissed her back immediately, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him. The kiss was hungry like in Neverland, but softer. And since they had done this dance before, they each instinctively knew how to stoke the other’s flame. A tiny mewling sound escaped Emma’s throat, and Killian groaned as he pulled away.

              “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye,” Killian told her, his forehead still pressed to hers. “I was planning on coming back.”

              “I know,” Emma whispered, running a finger along his jaw. His words ran through her mind, _Everyone I’ve ever loved is gone. I can’t lose you too._ It wasn’t “I love you,” but she would take it. For now.

              Killian pressed a kiss to her forehead, and Emma nuzzled into his touch, her eyes closed. But then he stiffened, and her eyes flew open.

              “What’s that?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave in obvious fear.

              Emma turned, her heart dropping as she saw what he was referring to. Dark purple clouds were billowing on the horizon, climbing up into the sky like a bulbous mountain, blotting out the sun. They sparked and crackled with bolts of lightning.

              “Magic,” Emma whispered.

                            *********************************************************

              Emma grasped Killian about the waist as he galloped on Buttercup through the trees. The branches slapped their faces, but Killian didn’t slow their pace. Emma glanced to the side at the approaching clouds of dark magic, and prayed more frantically than she had in her life. Killian slid from the saddle swiftly when they finally reached camp, then reached up to help Emma down. He grasped her hand, and they both raced towards the front where all the troops were gathered, facing the ominous purple clouds. They skidded to a stop next to Regina and Emma’s parents.

              “What’s going on?” Emma gasped.

              “It’s the dark curse,” Regina explained, her eyes narrowing in anger.

              “You mean the one you never cast?”

              Regina nodded at Emma grimly. “Yes, the very same.”

              “Surely we can do something to stop it!” Snow shouted from the circle of her husband’s arms. The wind whipped her dark hair around her face as she gazed long into Emma’s eyes. She had never seen fear in her mother’s expression, but it was there now.

              “No!” Regina shook her head. “That’s the point of the Dark Curse. It can’t be broken.”

              A maniacal laugh sounded from across the battle field. The Dark One stood there, his glittery reptilian skin appearing ominously gray in the waning light. “You know,” he quipped, “sometimes you just have to do things yourself.” He suddenly transported himself to Regina’s side. “You failed me. Then King Midas. Neither of you were willing to crush the heart of the one you loved most. Not dear old Daddy or precious Abigail.”

              “Then how the hell did you cast it, Dark One?” Killian spat. “Your black heart loves no one.”

              “That’s what I thought too,” the Dark One replied, his gaze going almost sad for a moment. Then he shook his head and the slight vulnerability was gone. “Then, believe it or not, some poor lass decided to see the man behind the beast. She loved me, as hard as that is to believe. When she kissed me, true love’s kiss almost broke me free of the darkness. But I loved power more.”

              Killian’s eyes widened. “The lass who broke me free from your dungeon. Belle.”

              “Aye,” the Dark One nodded, templing his fingers against his chin, “she may not have broken my curse . . . “ he paused for dramatic effect, “but her heart was perfect for casting this one.”

              “You monster!” Killian shouted with rage, lunging towards the Dark One with his sword drawn. But the imp disappeared in a cloud of smoke, and Killian stumbled into empty air. He spun around to see the dark one yards away, between the army and the approaching curse.

              “Once this washes over everyone,” the demon shouted, “the entire realm will be mine to rule as I please! And I will be the only one with magic! The only one with power!”

              Emma saw a strange look wash over Killian’s face. He turned to her and grasped her by both shoulders. “One thing can defeat him, love. His dagger.”

              Emma shook her head, “No. Regina told me that whoever uses the dagger _becomes_ the Dark One.”

              “Exactly. And then the curse will no longer have power,” Killian quirked a brow. “My sleight of hand is quite good. If I get close enough, I can get that dagger.”

              Emma shook her head harder as tears poured down her face. “But then the darkness will take you over.”

              He smiled softly, brushing her hair back from her face. “And who better to help me defeat it than you? My savior?”

              “Please, Killian,” she sobbed, “don’t do this!”

              He pulled her close and pressed his forehead to hers. He lifted her hand and pressed it to his heart. “I love you.” Then he pushed her away gently and slipped away amidst the Misthaven troops.

              Tears still streaming down her face, Emma weaved in and out of the army, her eyes searching amidst the crackling wind for Killian’s long leather duster. She burst through the front lines and choked on a gasp as she saw Killian sneaking up behind the Dark One. She wanted to shout his name, but fear kept it lodged in her throat. Time seemed to slow as his hand darted for the Dark One’s belt. Then before Emma even knew what was happening, the Dark One was suddenly behind her pirate instead and Killian’s back was arching as he cried out in pain. His eyes met hers across the vast field, a look almost of apology in them as he crumpled to the ground. Rumplestiltskin stood there with Killian’s heart in his hand, an evil grin on his impish face.

              Emma screamed Killian’s name as she ran to him, her family and friends behind her shouting at her to stay back. Emma fell to her knees at Killian’s side, pulling his head into her lap. His eyes struggled to stay open as the Dark One squeezed his heart.

              “I love you, too,” Emma whispered as she leaned down and brushed her lips to his.

              A pulse of magic burst out from where their lips were joined, and a rainbow of light washed over the purple clouds on the horizon. The light and dark magic clashed in a fire of sparks, then the sun broke through and the dark curse was no more.

              “True love’s kiss,” Regina whispered in awe as she and the others skidded to a stop nearby.

              “No!” The Dark One shouted and Killian’s eyes flew open for one tortured moment before Rumplestiltskin crushed his heart to dust in his glittery palm.

              “No!” Emma screamed as Killian slumped against her. She lifted her face in anguish to Rumplestiltskin. The demon gave her an evil, sadistic grin.

              “Now you know how I felt when Belle fell limp in my arms,” and with those words from his snarling lips, the Dark One disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

              Emma fell against Killian’s chest, sobbing. “Killian, no! I don’t want a future without you.”

              She felt her mother’s gentle hands on her shoulders. “Come, Emma. It’s too late. He’s gone.”

              Emma shoved Snow’s hands away, refusing to accept her words. She looked with panicked eyes at Regina. “There must be some magic that can undo this. _Please_.”

              Regina shook her head sadly. “I told you Emma, bringing back the dead is the darkest of magic.”

              Emma sobbed as she fisted Killian’s leather jacket in her fists. She fell against his chest again, her heart breaking when she couldn’t hear the beating of his. Then she gasped as something Regina had once told her came back to her.

              “Wait! Regina, you said there was a legend that two people with true love could share a heart.”

              Emma turned with renewed hope in her eyes to Regina. Out of the corner of her gaze, she saw her parents exchange worried glances.

              “Emma,” Regina said hesitantly, “it’s only that. A legend. I don’t know if it would work. You could die, too.”

              “Emma, sweetheart,” her father begged, “you can’t risk your life this way. You can go on. I know it doesn’t seem that way now, but –“

              “What would you do if it were mother?” Emma cut him off with a sharp voice. She looked around at all those gathered. “I’ve been taught since before I could even walk that true love is the strongest magic of all. Either you all believe that or you don’t. I choose to believe.”

              Before anyone could do or say anything to stop her, Emma gathered her magic and plunged her hand into her own chest with a gasp. She pulled out her heart, bright and red, and handed it to Regina.

              “Do it.”

              Regina glanced at Snow and David with a hesitant expression. Emma caught her mother’s gaze with pleading eyes. Snow sighed deeply and hung her head for a moment. Then she lifted her gaze resolutely to Regina and gave her a brief nod.

              “Snow!” David protested, stepping towards his daughter. His wife stopped him with a hand to the chest.

              “We have to let her do this, David. You know we do.”

              Regina swallowed hard and then grasped and twisted the heart. Emma cried out and fell backwards on the ground next to Killian. She reached out her hand and grasped his hook. His arm was heavy and limp. She gazed at his face, love filling her even though her heart was no longer in her chest. Regina knelt over them both and then shoved both halves of Emma’s heart into their chests. Emma let out a loud cry, her back arching, then she collapsed against the ground. The world went dark.

              Emma wasn’t sure how long she was out, but her family and friends all let out sighs of relief when she sat up with a loud gasp. She held her hand over her chest tentatively. She didn’t feel any different. She turned to see Killian still lying motionless on the ground. She leaned over him and brushed his hair back from his face tenderly.

              “Wake up, please wake up,” she whispered.

              Killian’s eyes suddenly flew open as a deep rush of air filled his chest. He sat up shakily, reaching up with his good hand to massage his chest. His eyes met Emma, filled with wonder.

              “This,” he choked, still massaging his chest, “this is how you feel about me?”

              Emma laughed as she peppered his face with kisses. “You just came back from the dead and that’s all you can say?”

              “Emma,” Regina spoke gently, “he shares your heart now. He’s feeling what you feel.”

              Emma pulled back to really look into Killian’s eyes. A light shone there that she had never seen before, making them sparkle like a clear pool of the purest water. He clutched his chest still as a smile of sheer joy filled his face. “You split your heart with me? Why? You could have died.”

              Emma shook her head as she gazed at him, running her hands along his stubbled cheeks. “I couldn’t lose my happy ending.”

              Killian’s eyes widened in awe, tears filling his eyes. He asked a question, but his face said he already knew the answer. “Your happy ending? What is it?”

              Emma’s eyes filled with tears as well. “You have my half heart, you silly pirate. Don’t you know, Killian? It’s you.”

              He leaned forward, slowly and reverently, cupping her face before pressing his lips to hers. The salty taste of both their tears mingled as they took their time with the kiss, slow and languid, not caring who was watching. They separated for a brief moment to smile at one another, then Killian was toying with her hair as he kissed her again. Emma sank into his lap as the kiss deepened, slowly wrapping her arms around his neck.

              Her father cleared his throat loudly, “Okay, you two. You may be certified true love but that doesn’t mean I want to watch my little girl make out with a pirate.”

              Emma and Killian parted, laughing, their foreheads pressed together. Their shared heart beating as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * So there you have it, both a true love's kiss AND heart sharing! Those are both things I really wanted that we never got.  
> * And I know, poor Belle. Despite killing her off in two fics now, I really do like her character. Especially her friendship with Killian. But you know, plot. *Hiding while you throw things at me.*


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited to give ya'll this one! I had a blast writing it! ;)

The sunrise colored the horizon with amazing splashes of pink and amber that seemed to ripple across the water like wet paint dripping down an artist’s canvas. As the warmth of the first rays of the sun washed over the deck of the Jolly Roger, Emma tilted her head back with a pleasant sigh, her eyes closed.

              “Now that is the most exquisite, beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

              Emma glanced over her shoulder at the sound of Killian’s voice, a contented smile upon her face. “Yes,” she agreed as she turned back towards the sea, “it never ceases to take my breath away.”

              Killian came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling into her ear. “I wasn’t talking about the sunrise.”

              Emma turned in his embrace and enjoyed the unabashed pleasure in his eyes as his gaze raked over her. She clutched a sheet around her, fisted at the top of her chest, and the excess fabric hung off her shoulders and exposed most of her back. But she was more covered than he was. Killian stood before her in all his masculine glory. He yanked her to him with a pleasant rumble low in his throat and kissed her soundly. Emma let go of her sheet as she threaded her arms around his neck. Killian, who had started nibbling her ear, suddenly stopped and pulled back.

              “What?” she asked him with concern, cupping his face in her hands.

              “Nothing,” he said with a pleasant smile, thumbing her lower lip, “I’m just so happy. It surprises me sometimes . . . _wife_.”

              He then pressed his forehead to hers with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

“I know,” she breathed out, “me too . . . _husband_.”

              Killian backed her up against the railing, as if he meant to take her right there. Which he could. And had throughout the course of their four week honeymoon. Yet he sighed and dropped his head against her collar bone. Emma tugged on his hair teasingly.

              “What? You can’t leave off _there_ ,” she pouted.

              He bent to pick up the sheet where she had dropped it and draped it over her shoulders. “We’re too close to shore, my love,” he explained with a brief kiss to her nose. “And though we are wed, I doubt your father wants that type of show.”

              Emma let her sheet drop again as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Come on, Killian, _please_? We can be really quick about it.”

              Killian’s eyebrows shot up. “Quick?” He gave her an almost sinful look as he scooped her up and carried her laughing to his quarters. He tossed her on to the bed and then crawled on top of her. “Oh, you want me to take my time. Believe me, love.”

              Emma giggled beneath him. Gasping, she asked, “Um, doesn’t someone have to steer the ship into port? I mean, I know you said she’s made of enchanted wood, but . . .”

              Killian groaned as he sat up, and Emma laughed again at how his hair stuck out in a thousand crazy directions. “You’re right love. We should both hurry and dress now. I’ll need your help to dock the ship.”

              They were both disappointed, which was hilarious given how they had spent ninety percent of their honeymoon. To say they both should be thoroughly satisfied was an understatement. Dressing took longer than it should have, interrupted as it was by lots of kissing and roaming hands, but they were finally at the helm just as the docks of Misthaven came into view. Killian let Emma take the wheel, standing flush behind her to guide her hands. Though by this point, she could probably sail the Jolly by herself.

              _Jewel of the Realm._ She mentally corrected. It was a naval ship once again. Emma sighed at the realization of what that would mean for them.

              “What is it, love?” Killian asked, his breath against her ear sending a pleasant rush up her spine.

              Emma turned her head to look up at him, admiring the line of his jaw and the intensity of his eyes as he navigated the ship. “I’ll miss you when you’re at sea.”

              His gaze softened as he looked into her eyes. “Aye, love, and I’ll miss you. But we’re at peace now. My voyages will be shorter and less frequent.”

              Emma frowned, “But I don’t like your first commission.”

              The intensity lined his brow again as he squinted against the sun. “It’s an important one, Emma. The Dark One hasn’t vanished into thin air. He’ll be back. And if Poseidon has a weapon that we can use against him, then I and my crew must go and obtain it.”

              “He’s the sea god,” Emma mused, voice laced with concern, “you’re not planning on stealing it, are you?”

              Killian peeled her fingers from the wheel and turned her to face him. “I’m no longer a pirate, but a Naval Captain. It is a diplomatic mission to negotiate with a foreign leader.”

              “A diplomatic mission, huh?” Emma nodded then ducked beneath his arm. She paced back and forth upon the quarter deck and then whirled to Killian with a huge smile on her face. “And who better to go with you to lead negotiations than the Crown Princess?”

              Killian’s eyes widened. “No, Emma. Your father will have me court martialed.”

              “It’s not your idea, is it?” Emma responded saucily. She and Killian battled silently as they stared at one another. “I’ll handle my father.”

              Killian sighed in defeat. “Bloody hell.”

              “I don’t mean to offend you, Captain,” Emma teased, pushing him aside so she could take the wheel again, “but we make quite the team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally, I have a bittersweet feeling ending an MC, but honestly? I am relieved to have one of my many WIPs completed. Having said that, I have been so surprised at the response to this story which came to me on a whim when I read the story of Samson and Delilah to my kids one morning. Who knew it would lead us here? Thank you all for your kudos and comments!


End file.
